


Naked in the dark (return him to my arms)

by OnlyOneWoman



Series: All That May Leave Us Shattered [1]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Delusions, Despair, Domestic, Fear, Friendship, Gunnbones, Husbands, Idelle is the fucking boss, Kidnapping, Loneliness, Love, Lovers to Friends, M/M, Matelotage, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Mindfucked Ben Gunn, Not Canon Compliant, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pirate Husbands, Post-Season/Series 03, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Billy Bones, Protective Charles Vane, Psychological Torture, Punishment, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Religious Fanaticism, Religious Guilt, Self-Hatred, Sexual Assault, Sexual Content, Shame, Torture, Unrequited Lust, Walrus Husbands, Worry, silverflint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-07 12:03:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 34,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7714198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyOneWoman/pseuds/OnlyOneWoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This turned out to be a REALLY long story that I had to split in two, simply because 80+ chapters felt a bit too much in one work. At least it felt more difficult to handle for me. "Naked in the dark (return him to my arms)" is part 1 of "All That May Leave Us Shattered" and then part 2, "Whatever that's left (another holy war)" takes up the thread about 3 months after the events in chapter 45 of "Naked...". It's the SAME STORY, just split in two to make it easier to work with. Alright, here we go:</p><p> </p><p>It's past season three. Billy Bones and Ben Gunn are matelotes (pirate husbands) and are living together in a little house. The war is won and Charles Vane, who is a former lover of Billy's, is still alive. The story begins with Billy desperately searching for Ben, who's nowhere to be found...</p><p>Billy/Ben is a tricky couple to dive in to when there's angst in the picture, I've discovered. Please don't hesitate to leave a comment if you like the story or think it's a bit fucked up <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Billy doesn’t know which time around it is. He’s just running, staying to catch breath and some water, sometimes throwing up and then he's on the way again. Blind hunting for a man with golden hair, last seen leaving the tavern after delivering some cinnamon buns to Max and her girls. They love his pastries. Billy loves them too and his heart is raising up to panic speed as he runs through blindly through parts of Nassau he doesn’t know if he’s already searched through.  
  
_It has been too easy_ , he should’ve known. Nothing is supposed to be as easy as this, with a loving husband making cinnamon buns and smiling like the fucking sun. It was too perfect and now his sun is gone. The air itself hurt his lungs. His breaths becoming more and more erratic, head spinning dangerous fantasies of _what if_ and _if only_.  
  
He isn’t unused to feel helpless. He’s been kidnapped, raped, tortured, survived a storm only to be captured by the navy, survived a captivity in a maroon camp and won a fucking war against England. He’s seen his brothers suffer, starve and die, powerless against the weather, lack of food and water. He’s longed for love for years, unable to approach any object to his desires. Ben entering his life hasn’t been anything like those thunderstorms of feelings people talked about. It has been calm, natural, like the right key for the right locker. Smooth, unbothered and oh so sweet.  
  
His stomach turns and he throws up what little food Silver has managed to force him to eat these last thirtysix hours. He’s too tired to run. His feet are bleeding from long, agonizing hours of searching.  
  
”Billy…”  
  
Flint. He has cried in front of that man once, as a newly rescued seventeen year old. Fiften years later he does it again, desperately clinging on to his captains coat, wetting his shirt. The older man strokes his head.  
  
”We have every man available searching for him. Don’t give up hope, Billy.”  
”I don’t understand! Why? Why _Ben_? He’s done nothing to no one here! He’s so fucking harmless he shouldn’t even be called a pirate! He’s making cinnamon buns and loves cats, for fucks sake!”  
  
Oh, the irrational words he’s suddenly speaking, unveiling feelings that belongs to one mans ears only. _I love him more than I knew it was possible to love another human being._  Oh God, if I’ve ever done anything even remotely good, return him to my arms, whole and… _Stop my thoughts from spinning too far._  
  
Billy knows. John knows and Flint knows. Oh, they know all too well how easy your heart can be ripped into pieces, turned into something impossible to recognize. How pain and fear can turn you into something else. That even if you’re saved, you’ll never be the same man again. Ben has already survived a long captivity, seeing his entire crew die and loose all hope ever to see freedom again. The road back to sanity has been a long one.  
  
Yes, Billy knows. He has watched Ben’s every single step, caught every fall, calmed every storm inside the man from the moment they met. Piece after piece being puzzled together, tying them closer to one another every day and every night until the very air they breathe is detached from each other lungs. It has been painful, but never uncertained. Every word, look, touch and problem they faced since the crew got locked up in that cage has drawn them towards the same point, a single one marked out for two pirates past their thirties with more lives than a couple of cats. Slowly, Billy has used whatever power he possesses to make Ben smile. What if he never sees that smile again?  
  
”Billy, stop!”  
  
He’s running again, at least he’s trying to, hardly hearing Flint’s voice. Running, failing and falling down in a pathetic pile of shaky flesh, all dizzy and eyes red and itching from lack of sleep. He screams. He’s never been one to let himself loose like this, always managed to keep himself calm enough on the outside not to cause a scene. But not now. Not when Ben isn’t where he should be, by Billy’s side, embraced in an act of love or peaceful sleep, safe and calm. He can’t take it. He’s lost too much already. The Navy took his freedom and his youth, deprived him of his home and family. Cruel men have used, exploited, tortured and raped his body to a point which he thought he’d never bare to have another human being touch him again. He’s lost Gates, numerous of brothers and this is just about the end of what he’s willing to endure.  
  
A moment later, Flint is by his side holding him tight, pressing Billy’s head against his chest, mumbling softly.  
  
”I’m with you, Billy, you’re not alone… Just breathe, try to breathe…”  
  
TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Billy has told him. During their long nights of trying to calm Ben’s nightmares about the maroon camp, making him let go of the shame for not holding up, Billy opened up about the press gang and Hume. He let Ben follow the scars on his skin with his fingers, touching each and everyone of them, telling him every story. Small, white stripes you had to look at from really close distance to see. Scars from lashes, pale spots from healed burn marks. Cigars, embers, iron tools. And the more acceptable, the kind of scars you counted on with a life like this: bullets from pistols, rigging accidents and knife fights.  
  
He didn’t have to tell him, but he did. And that’s what Ben is holding on to now as the darkness devours him. The inner vision of his strong, beautiful husband that has survived the most horrific things without loosing his sanity. The very small but still existing hope he’ll get out of this alive.  
  
He is naked in the darkness and the neck hurts badly. They’ve ripped his necklace off. With another item Ben would find it stupid to the line of madness to care about a jewellry, but Billy gav him this when they came to Nassau and he rarely uses another necklace. And they’ve cut his hair, as an amusement he suppose, to humiliate him. It’s just hair, but Billy loves to entangle his fingers in it, loves to comb and bury his nose in it. The loss of the hair strangely makes him feel more naked than his undressed body. Not even in the maroon camp did they deprive him of his clothes and hair. And he still doesn’t know who these men are or why they’ve made him a target, only that they’re at least two and not from the Navy. And cowards.  
  
To blindfold a naked man already put in chains is the act of a coward and a part of Ben is filled with nothing but despise, a much better feeling to hang on to than fear. Imagining how Billy must feel now mixes the despise with anger. It’s important for him and Billy to know where the other person goes and when to expect him back. It’s not that they don’t trust each other or don’t think the other person can manage on his own. No, it’s not a sign of control or distrust. It’s just love. Quiet, discrete love not taking any grand formes. Smiles and gazes only to be seen when they’re alone. Knowing where to find one another at any given time. Ben doesn’t have to make an effort to picture his lovers despair, anxiety and rage right now.  
  
Hard hands removes the gag and forces him to drink. He spits it out first, but it’s just water and next  time he swallows. A small piece of bread is shoved into his mouth together with some more water.  Apparently they’re not gonna let him starve to death.  
  
”If you scream I’ll knock your teeth out.”  
  
The gag is back in a hurry and suddenly Ben realise his captivator is a woman. At least one of them. The hands are the ones of a man, but the voice belongs to a woman. A stranger.  
  
”He won’t be any good without teeth, you know.”  
”A dog without teeth can still use his mouth. You hear me, dog. Try to use your teeth on us and you’ll soon find yourself missing them.”  
  
The voice belonging to the hands isn’t familiar to him either. Ben isn’t very social and doesn’t know  many people in Nassau, but he can definately tell this one is English. He doesn’t have the rough edges from years among brothers with different origins. This voice belongs to someone who’s used to be obeyed without question. A man seeing his power and authority as indisputable, unfamiliar with not getting what he wants whenever he wants it. A dangerous voice, a dangerous man. A stranger in Nassau and a coward. Billy is far more dangerous and Ben doesn’t know if he wants his captivator to know that or not. The outcome of this is just as uncertain.  
  
_I survived the maroon camp, he tries to think. I survived the maroon camp, I survived the war and maybe I can survive this if I don’t act in panic…_ The cold sense of metal against his throat, a soft voice close to his ear.  
  
”Don’t even _think_ of screaming. Or moving.”  
  
He’s already gagged and restrained, he can’t break the chains so why bother to… _No… No! No, no, no!_ The pain isn’t like anything he has felt before. It splits him, desolates his body, wipes out every memory of gentle, loving touches and sweetness. He can’t scream, the air is ripped from his lungs, his body tries to lock only to have the pain increased. It takes far too long before he passes out.  
  
TBC


	3. Chapter 3

”Is that how you reacted when…?”  
  
John doesn’t finish his sentence. Doesn’t have to. _When they took Thomas._ Flint looks at the tall, muscular body on the bed. Billy is finally sleeping. Somehow Flint has never really thought about his former bosuns, now first mates relations. Or lack of them. To Billy, the Walrus crew and Flint have always come first. Sometimes the crew, more often Flint but never Billy himself. It’s in Billy’s nature, somehow, to care. And frankly, neither Flint, John, Gates or other men have allowed him to be a caring man. Not in the way Billy needs to be.   
  
He has always been a little lonely, a little bit shut out from the ones closest to him. The people Billy care about, have very rarely given him proper credit for the loyalty, the efforts and the respect he shows them. His lack of interest in the brothels goods as well as his oblivious looks whenever a women takes interest in him, has always been cause to blunt jokes. He was so young when he came to the crew, it’s as if they never really think of him as a man with the same desire for love as others. Flint sighs.  
  
”Yes. And no.”  
”What if Ben isn’t…”  
”Stop. Don’t even think that. _Billy_ mustn’t think that.”  
  
Seeing Billy and Ben smile at each other makes it a little too easy to forget their lives have been no less harsh than Flint’s or John’s. They seem like an untroubled couple, but every relationship has it’s sharp edges.  Grand feelings has never been something Flint connects with Billy. His anger, fear and frustration has always been of the slow, gnawing and suspicous sort. This level of panic, rage and anxiety reveals a love no less deep, no less bleeding or passionate than the one Flint had for Thomas. And that’s why Billy can’t be allowed to hear as much as a whisper in his sleep about the worst outcome imaginable.  
  
”James, we must do more than this.”  
”We already have men looking. What else can we do?”  
”Put out a reward for any man or woman to bring Ben back alive.”  
”And what if he’s not?”  
”A dead or alive reward would certainly not increase the chance to have him back alive, and you know that. We need to get people to talk, and money talks very loud.”  
”I still can’t figure out a motive. Ben is harmless, he holds no big treasure, no big influence and hasn’t been here long enough to make enemies.”  
”Who says Ben is the primary target? Sure, these people whoever they are, took Ben, but what if it’s Billy they’re after?”  
”How many people know they’re a couple?”  
”Besides from the crew, our allies in the war operations and perhaps their neighbors I don’t know. Of course Max knows, but since neither Billy or Ben have been costumers at the inn, I doubt the girls share much gossip about them. And to be honest, there’s simply not much to share. They’re not a very public couple, Billy is highly respected even among Vane’s former crew and Ben… well, Ben does what Billy does. No ransom has been announced either.”  
”So what do you think caused this?”  
”You mean _who_ caused this? I think someone has a personal interest to make Billy regret he chose Ben as his matelot.”  
”Jealousy?”  
”It’s not unlikely and stranger things have happened than a jealous person abducting his or her love interest.”  
” _Her_? You think it could be a woman?”  
”If it’s woman, she most certainly needed help to do it and if it’s a man I honestly believe he needed help too. You don’t abduct Billy Bone’s matelot if you’re not certain you can do it quickly, raising little or no suspicion and prevent him from knowing.”  
  
An abducted man, a dead body well hidden… Outcomes you don’t want to think about. A soft knocking get their attention. Featherstone.  
  
”It was open. Is he here?”  
”Billy is sleeping. Finally. You bring news?”  
  
John realise he sounds more tired than he thought he was. Featherstone doesn’t look very optimistic.  
  
”Our only trace at this moment is that he most definately is still on the island. No ship left the harbour that day and since then Max has made sure no one can leave before being searched, but we’ve found nothing but a couple of men on the run from Anne Bonny’s knives.”  
”Have we searched through all the civilian homes?”  
”Yes. No sign of him anywhere.”  
  
Flint frowns.  
  
”That means they’ve moved him and most certainly during night. Cunning bastards, have to give them that. But the question _why_ still remains. Featherstone, you spent a good deal of time with both Billy and Ben when we freed Vane. Did you meet anyone who had something against any of them? Or that took a little too much of an interest in them?”  
”Not in the house, but I know Idelle said the girls were talking about them. But that was, of course, with that new girl.”  
”What new girl?”  
”A blonde one, came shortly before Mrs. Mapleton took care of the place again. Don’t know her name, but there’s nothing strange with whores are asking about the men around here. And it’s not the first time a whore has complained about Billy’s absence.”  
  
John rise from the chair, sighing a little at the pain in his leg.  
  
”Well, what are you waiting for? Take me to her.”  
”You shouldn’t restrain your leg…” Flint begins, but John interrupts him.   
”When Billy wakes up, he’ll need someone here that can prevent him from do something stupid and I can’t do that. I’ll send word for Dr. Howell to get here, and I promise I’ll do my part of the search on horse if they don’t need me down the inn. Vane is at sea, but if we could reach Teech, I’ve no doubts he would help. He’s a bastard and he doesn’t know Ben, but Billy always had Vanes respect.”  
  
James nods.  
  
”Go. I’ll look after Billy. And if you find the bastards responsible for this, try not to kill them. The punishment is for Billy to decide.”  
”And Ben.”  
__  
If he’s still alive.  
  
  
TBC


	4. Chapter 4

She’s rising. At last. He still has all his limbs attached. He’s dizzy from the beating, but nothing vital is broken or missing. Tongue, teeth, ears and eyes. Hands and fingers, legs and feet. His privy parts. Yes, his body is physically intact in the meaning of limbs still being in their right places. But they’re not his anymore. They’re not Billy’s. Ben has never been able to fully relate to this part of the torture Billy went through in the navy. Sometimes he has wished to understand it better, to be able to meet every single one of Billy’s still remaining traces of pain. Now he knows what it costs to gain that kind of understanding and the shame, the self-contempt following it. And he curse himself for wanting that knowledge.  
  
A man doing this to him is, for some reason, less shamefull. It doesn’t require anything but his ass. But a woman. Yes, the cock can rise even if you really don’t want to, even if you’re not in the least horny and no, he didn’t came – in fact, he hated every second of that bouncing heat around him – but _she_ came. So disgusting, so humiliating.   
  
”I would’ve prefered your _matelots_ cock, but I guess I can go with yours for the time being.”  
  
_He will find me. And when he does, you and your companion rapist wont be in need for any more cock, ass or pussy ever again. Whatever happens, non of you will get out of this alive and don’t even for a second think you’ll get any clemency because you’re a woman.  
  
_ ”Admit you liked it. Having a real woman for once. These… what do you call them… _matelotages_ are an abomination, a mockery to our Lord, a crime against nature itself. You should thank me for this, for helping you out of your sin. Your _matelot_ will be next. Yes, he’ll put up more fight, but at least that shows he’s still a man and not a weak boy.”  
  
_So this is your reason? Salvation by rape… You keep telling yourself that, ’cause when Billy finally gets his hands on you and your companion, he won’t let you talk for long and the only salvation you can hope for is a quick death. I understand now. This is not about me, it’s about you wanting my husband, you being mad enough thinking you could use rape to tear us apart. You and your rotten civilization believing in your right to bend every man and woman to your sick, loveless will. And not giving you a reason to kill or mutilate me isn’t weakness. Being alive isn’t loosing, believe me.  
  
_ ”You’re not much of a talker, are you? But it’s easier if you could see the one talking to you, right?”  
  
She removes the blindfold, showing a small room, most likely a cellar. It’s dark, but now he recognize her. Long, blonde hair, big breasts and hard, blue eyes. That’s why he didn’t know the voice. He has never talked with this whore, Idelle only told about her in passing. Oh yes… about the girl asking questions about Billy. _”It’s always like this, Ben. Whenever we get a new girl and she sees Billy Bones for the first time, she gets all puppy-eyed and then extremly disappointed.”_  
  
A whore speaking about abominations and religious mockery, with the goal to seduce a molly by kidnapping and raping his matelot? If Ben wasn’t in the position he is, he’d be laughing. Instead, and he can’t believe why, he speaks:  
  
”Whatever your plan is, it wont work. You can keep us both in chains ’til we die, but he’ll never love you or stop loving me. When he finds you, he’ll treat you the same as he’d treat a man doing this to me and you’ll beg for death long before he’s done with you.”  
  
He waits for it, but it doesn’t come. No strike, no violence at all. She just leaves, without putting the blindfold back on.  
  
  
TBC


	5. Chapter 5

”Take these off me! Now! John! Flint! I know you’ve done this, you assholes!”  
  
James just sighes. So he’s awake now, after only four hours. He slowly rises when Vane comes in. James frowns.  
  
”What are _you_ doing here?”  
”Just came back from Tortuga. I heard about what happened.”  
”And?”  
  
Vane just snorts.  
  
”Believe it or not, I actually like Billy. I asked Jack and Anne to take part in the search with the crew.”  
”But you’re not searching yourself?”  
”I am, but I wanted to see how he’s holding up. Is that so surprising?”  
  
_Yes, it is_ , James thinks. Not that Vane respects Billy enough to help out, but personal care aint one of this man’s features. When Vane hears Billy’s curses from the other room about being restrained, he frowns.  
  
”His man is gone and you’re keeping him in fucking chains like _he’s_ the madman? Jesus…”  
”Believe me, we had no choice. If we’d let him loose, he could’ve get himself killed.”  
”How long has he been awake?”  
”Not long. I should go to him.”  
”No. I’ll go. And give me the key.”  
”You’re letting him loose?”  
”Yes, I’ll let him fucking loose!”  
  
Vanes rebuff leaves no room for an alternative and James gives him the key with a sigh.  
  
”Would you mind to prevent him from trying killing me? Despite what you might think, we did this to keep him from harming himself.”  
  
Vane isn’t very interested in either Flint’s or John’s motives, but he understands. He enters the room and Billy stops screaming when he sees Vane.  
  
”The fuck are you doing here? Where’s Flint?”  
”The kitchen. I’m going to unchain you.”  
”So you don’t think I’m mad, huh?”  
  
Vane gives him a strange look, very much like compassion.  
  
”Someone took your man. Would be strange if that didn’t turn you mad. Anne, Jack and the Ranger crew are searching too, by the way.”  
  
He unlocks the chains an Billy sits up, massaging his wrists.  
  
”Thank you. For helping…”  
  
Billy doesn’t continues. The hopelessness, the aching worry digs hole after hole in his heart, mind and soul and deprives him of any sense of restraining his feelings. He’s crying like a child in Vane’s arms, completely unaware of how strange the sight is, not seeing the exasparated look in Flint’s eyes from the doorway as he slowly shuts the door.  
  
TBC


	6. Chapter 6

”I didn’t protect him…”  
”Stop that. Ben is more than capable to take care of himself under normal circumstances. _This…_ whatever the fuck it is, didn’t happen due to anything you did or didn’t.”  
  
Vane holds him tight. They haven’t been lovers in a very long time and whatever they shared in that way it’s long since dead and not missed by any of them. It’s nothing no one but Ben knows about and that’s how it should be. He’d be pleased to know Vane is here now, supporting Billy simply by being a rock in the storm. Calm, unmovable, not afraid of anything or anyone. His presence keeps Billy safe better than any chains.  
  
”I need to get out there again, Charles. I can’t just sit here.”  
”Silver told me you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”  
”I have no appetite.”  
”Listen to me! You’re no good if you pass out from hunger after a mile. We’re going back out there, but not before you have something to eat and let me take care of those fucking feet. Then we’ll hunt those bastards down and bring your love back. You hear that? Never for a second fucking doubt that, Billy.”  
  
Blue eyes. What is it with Billy and half mad men with blue eyes? Vane gives him a kiss on the head.  
  
”First food, then your feet and then rest. After that, we go out looking again.”  
  
What Flint and Silver failed to do in two days, Vane only need to say once in order for Billy to listen. While Billy finally eat some bread and meat, washed down with only water, he let Vane wash his sore feet. When Vane’s done, he leaves he room to empty the basin and get some air. Flint accompanies him.  
  
”And how did you manage to do that?”  
”Do what?”  
”Billy’s been half mad and refused to listen to us, his captain and his quartermaster for two days now and suddenly you shows up and he’s turning within the hour.”  
”You’re really that surprised two master manipulators like you and Silver can’t calm your loyal first mate in two days, when all you ever do is hiding your plans and intentions from him? The only reason he didn’t join my crew when I asked him is because he’s so fucking loyal, but I’ve never lied to him and he knows I never will.”  
  
Flint doesn’t seem to have an answer to that, and Vane just returns to Billy, shutting the door behind him with his foot. He put the empty basin down, get to his knees in front of Billy and digs in his pocket for a bottle with oil.  
  
”For your feet.”  
  
It helps. Vane’s hands are gentle and when he’s done, he simply takes his own shoes off and sits beside Billy, stroking his hair.  
  
”You need some hours before you can get out again. Lay down. I have the entire crew on the Ranger and the Colonial Dawn out there. You can’t help him if you’re exhausted.”  
  
He knows this, but his mind wont cooperate. Ben is out there, somewhere. Alone, in fear and pain. The image has his eyes all teary again and Vane carefully make him lay down and then lay down beside him, holding an arm around him.  
  
”Try to sleep, Billy.”  
  
Slowly, the exhaustion wins and he’s crying himself to sleep in Vane’s embrace.  
  
TBC


	7. Chapter 7

”Fuck! You’re as useless as I thought you’d be!”  
  
 _Good._ At last, his body has stopped betraying him. She can’t be a very experienced whore if she doesn’t know that men can’t do it again as soon as women after a fuck. At least not if you’re using the cock. Sooner or later, you’re spent or just exhausted and it will refuse to cooperate. He could tell her, that threats and hard squeezes around the balls are even more futile than grinding a pussy against a recently used cock belonging to a man that doesn’t like women and has every reason to hate the woman on top of him.  
  
She also seems completey unaware of the fact that there’s a difference between being hard and being horny, or between ejaculation and orgasm. That Ben hates everything with her body, with her weight, her wetness and her moves on top of him. That he constantly tries to make himself abscent in mind, to act like he’s not aware of her at all.  
  
She gets off him, cursing and yelling about lack of manhood. She must be mad. Like, a real loonatic. At least that would explain this. She’s having some form of delirium that make her believe she can… like force him to like women? But in the same time it’s not Ben she wants, it’s Billy, and Ben starts to believe she’s only keeping him here to make Billy desperate enough to loose his cautionsness. The man enters, scowling. He has a bowl and some bread with him.  
  
”Again, Elaine? _Really?_ ”  
”It’s not that soon. This molly is fucking useless!”  
”Did you feed him, like I told you?”  
”He had water not two hours ago.”  
”Not water. Food, Elaine. No wonder he can’t get it up if he’s barely conscious.”  
”Feed him then!”  
  
She leaves the room and the man kneels beside him, lifts his head with less rough hands than earlier and put a piece of bread in his mouth, followed by some soup. He’s so tired and sore, the almost friendly touch make him cry. In silence, but still.  
  
”Wouldn’t do that if I were you. Tears aint pretty and she wants you pretty.”  
”Why me?”  
  
He’s not supposed to talk, but he can’t help himself. The man looks annoyed, but not angry.  
  
”We came here to spread the good news. The holy word, the love of God. We thought people would want to listen, to be forgiven for their trespasses and choose the right path if they had another chance. Little did we know how far down your life had drawn you in the depths of sin. Not only were you thieving, murdering and whoring. You lived out, even _celebrated_ , a perversion of Gods nature, a mockery of the sanctity of marriage…”  
  
The disgust in his voice is almost touchable.  
  
”Your manwhore is next, molly. He’ll regret he ever let himself be seduced by you.”  
”I didn’t seduce him and he didn’t seduce me. We’ve never had sex and neither of us is a molly.”  
  
The lie slips out so easy he’s surprised by how convincing it sounds. The man goes still and Ben keeps talking.  
  
”You don’t have to have sex for being matelots, you didn’t know that? It’s a contract about sharing profit and living spaces, but it doesn’t require intimacy of any sort. We look out for each other and we live together. Of course we love each other, but shouldn’t you love your brothers? Neither of us has a wife, but we don’t care for other men either.”  
  
It’s a desperate lie and there’s a good chance this religious loonatic asshole of a rapist will see through it, but it’s the best shot Ben has now. The man seems confused.  
  
”You’re not fucking?”  
”No!”  
  
Ben manage to look disgusted, not very difficult in this state, but he’s never been a good liar and he’s surprised by how easy the rapist hesitate. He continues.  
  
”Billy and I share a home simply because he helps me to adjust to a normal life again. I’ve been a prisoner in a maroon camp, you see, and when Flint’s crew saved me, Billy and I became friends. It’s not easy to live on your own here, especially not after my experience, and  we became matelots to help me build a new life. It’s about taking care of each other, nothing more. So, basically, you’re the one committing sodomy and _she’s_ the one committing fornication here…”  
  
Maybe the rapist believes him, maybe not and maybe it doesn’t matter. At least he doesn’t accuse him to be a liar and then he take his leave with the empty bowl, once again leaving Ben naked in the dark.  
  
TBC


	8. Chapter 8

When do you know you’ve found the right one? Billy’s never seen himself as husband material, no wonder since he’s spent a good deal of his childhood and his entire adult life on ships. Admitting a man is easy on the eyes hasn’t been controversial or even strange to him. Mates being lovers is nothing uncommon and when it became clear for the crew that Billy wasn’t interested in women at all, they simply teased him about boys the same way they teased each other about girls. And of course he wasn’t the only one in the crew that took interest in men.    
  
But getting laid when on shore is a whole different thing than a steady lover, and a matelot, a husband, is another step ahead. When you not only wish to share a bed, but the meals and work as well. Perhaps, if you dare to dream, even a home. And he’s made a home with Ben. It’s not a big, rich or even very nice one, but it’s theres. For almost eighteen months they’ve shared every night and most days together and Billy can’t remember ever being so happy, or a time believing a happiness like this was possible. Not even in his childhood days. If he’d not became a pirate, if he’d grown up in peace with his parents, he still would’ve been a men’s man. Girls and women have never interested him with their curvy figures and tits. He tried a couple of times, but a visit to the mollies in Tortuga when he was about twenty, made it clear to him. He liked men and only men and when he lived in a society where he didn’t need to hide or risk any punishment for that desire, he damn well wouldn’t punish himself by being abstinent.   
  
Over the years, he’s had many good times in Tortuga, but just like many brothers choosing the company of women, he’d always longed for something more. Someone that doesn’t smile at you for coin, someone who loves to kiss you, who will crawl into your arms at night for comfort, who will say your name out loud when you reach the pitch together… _Oh God…_ the memories are bittersweet now. And even when both he and Ben were clear about their feelings, it took a very long time before they could climb up the first phase.   
  
For their brothers, his and Ben’s relationship is viewed as an easy one. The unity between them is seemless, natural as it could be and no one has ever seen them fight or being jealous. Even Flint and Silver, with their gift for snooping, not to mention knowledge about both Billy’s and Ben’s background stories, haven’t suspected anything about Ben’s nightmares or the fact there was no sex what so ever between them for many months. Ben even told Billy to get himself laid with another man, feeling both frustrated and bad for not having his body respond as it should. Billy refused. He’s never been in to occasional sex just for scratching an itch and sleeping with Vane again was out of the question. He much rather waited for Ben to feel the time was right.  
  
They’ve spent so many nights just holding each other close, kissing and looking at each other in the darkness. After a couple of months, shirts came off and about four months in, Ben started to curl up to Billy in his sleep, searching closeness instead of distance during nightmares. Billy let himself be a mattress, a pillow, a blanket for him, ignoring his own aching cock – and Ben’s – for months, putting a whole new perspective on the concept of patience. The only one who knew about it, who understood it, was Vane. To him it wasn’t strange to talk about what captivity and slavery could do to a man. To him Ben wasn’t weak, far from it, and he encouraged Billy to put up with the situation when it felt like it was going nowhere.  
  
And then, after almost seven months of fighting nightmares, memories and disobedient bodies, the patience was rewarded. They’d been sitting on the small back porch one evening, Ben having his head in Billy’s lap while telling him stories about how he used to mock the priest during mass as a kid back in his home village near Edinburgh. It was a stupid story, but very funny, and Billy had been surprised learning what a wicked – and funny – boy this serious man had been. They’d laughed a lot and suddenly, seeing Billy’s smiling face from his angle, Ben threw an arm around his neck and pulled him down for an all but chaste kiss. And a little while later, Ben was fucking him like some ferociuos animal, making Billy _very_ grateful for that pot of oil Vane had given him _for the right moment._  
  
But in the end, fucking is just fucking, and that doesn’t mean you want his company outside the bed, no matter how sweet your moments under the bedlinen are. So when Billy realised that even if they didn’t fuck, he needed Ben beside him in the mornings, ached for him when their different tasks forced them to work on different parts of Nassau, didn’t want to visit the inn for a drink without his company and their quiet evening conversations – with as much laughs as gravity – came to be the highlight of every day, more important than sex, he simply had to admit he was in love. And so was Ben.  
  
That love is the reason Billy wakes up crying. Why the last nights exhaustion hasn’t given him a peaceful sleep, but only the most necessairy rest to be able to use his legs again. This is why the presence of Vane’s body beside him is as much of a comfort as a painful reminder of who isn’t there. And why Vane’s firm hug, the strokes over his back to at least not leaving Billy all alone in his pain, more than anything speak of the man who should be there, but isn’t.  
  
TBC


	9. Chapter 9

”You mean she didn’t work yesterday?”  
”No. Her mother’s ill and she’s taking care of her. Must be the first girl here in my time having her mother in Nassau.”  
”I see.”  
”A little bit of a looney, that one. She always talks about God, y’know. Odd, working in a place like this.”  
”You know who her mother is?”  
”I think it’s a Mrs. Williams. A seemstress, if I remember correctly, but I’ve never heard of anyone ordering from her. At least not any of our girls.”  
  
Idelle is the one keeping an extra eye whenever Mrs. Mapleton needs it. And that means all the time. A good whore is worth her price, but a watchful whore is priceless, as Max says. But Idelle is also a very popular girl and that extra eye can’t always be around as much as needed. Right now, John is more than grateful for that eye. He gives Idelle a kiss on her cheek and some coins before going back to James.  
  
”Seems like we should look for a certain blonde girl called Elaine, believing she’s some kind of saint among whores, and her mother.”  
”Her mother?”  
”A seemstress, according to Idelle, but she wasn’t entirely sure. Fuck!”  
  
His leg hurts again and he stops, grimazing and gritting his teeth at James concearned face.  
  
”Don’t start, my love. Not now. If I say I can do this, I mean it. And besides, we take the horses.”  
”What horses?”  
” _Any_ fucking horses! Damn it, we have to find Ben before Billy starts another war here, so get two of the inn’s horses right now.”  
  
If you want anything done in a rush, you can always count on James to delay it with stupid questions. John just shakes his head. That man is indeed a fucking challenge to live with. But he returns with two saddled horses and soon they’re on their way.   
  
TBC


	10. Chapter 10

”We humbly acknowledge before thee, O most mercifull Father, that all the punishments which are threatened in thy law might justly have fallen upon us, by reason of our manifold transgressions and hardnesse of heart : yet seeing it hath pleased thee of thy tender mercie, upon our weak and unworthy humiliation, to asswage the noisome pestilence wherewith we lately have been sore afflicted, and to restore the voice of joy and health into our dwellings : We offer unto thy divine Majesty the sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving, lauding and magnifying thy glorious Name for such thy preservation and providence over us; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”  
  
He’s lost count on how many times they’ve said that prayer. What is it with religious people and repetitions and old language? It never comes out as solemnly when uneducated people says it. You can literally hear they’re only repeating the words, not actually reading them – and certainly not understanding them.  
  
They’ve built a kind of rhythm to the reading, more terrifying than the strikes. His face feels like it’s been skinned and he’s probably bleeding by now, but that’s nothing to the pain in his nethers. He’s tied up in a sitting position that hurts far more than any slap in the face. Whatever the male abductor thought about their previous conversation, Elaine-the-unfamiliar-whore, is obviously in charge here and she’s tearing his skin, piece by piece. Ben’s not even caring that he’s showing her the weakness of moaning. The pain is of a kind that keeping a straight face is impossible when it goes on like this. It’s all about humiliation to these people. The cutting of his hair, the beating, the rapes… The fanatics way to crush a free spirit, telling themselves their cruelty is an act of mercy. Of love.  
  
_Oh, Billy... I know you’re looking for me. Know you’ll never stop searching no matter how long it takes. You’ll find me, but in what form? No! Must not think like that. Can’t allow myself to let these devils in my mind. This island is big, but not so big I’m out of reach for you. Not with the help from Max, Flint and Silver. In one way or another, I’ll return to your arms and you’ll recognize me even if I don’t.  
  
_ ”You’re so disgusting, both of you! A shame for your poor mothers, a disgrace to your fathers. If they knew about your sins, they’d wish for the two of you never to have been born!”  
  
He can’t cry, but every _can_ and _can not_ are smashed from the long hours of torture. This is a very sick woman, he should shut his ears for her, but the words about his and Billy’s parents breaks him. They’ve talked about their families. Ben doesn’t recall any parents, only an aunt and uncle. Not very nice, but certainly not mean either. Dead in the plague when Ben was fifteen and he’s been at sea ever since. The story of Billy’s parents is different. It’s a story about reading by the kitchen table, being tucked into bed, of goodnight kisses, warm meals and loving eyes. And about stealing a boy from his parents, treating him worse than an animal and leaving his family not knowing what happened to their only child…  
  
No, he can’t cry, and thinking about Billy’s childhood somehow helps. It’s not too late, the story tells him. Billy never came back to them, but he survived and despite all the cruelty he experienced, he never turned cruel himself. He’s a man that kisses his husband in the mornings, takes long detours just to look for plants Ben might use for tea, that worships him with every look and every touch. Billy is dangerous, fearsome in battle and behind his puppy-like eyes, lies the gaze of a man used to survive in a cruel world. Whatever being left of Ben to find, he will find it.  
  
_But I wish, desperately hope for you to find me alive._  
  
TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Idelle is a practical girl. She sometimes actually likes her work, but a whore who’s not a cynic, wont survive very long. A kiss and some coins wont help Ben, but of course both Silver and Flint had been too eager getting on their way, to let her speak. Stupid men, leaving the one person who can recognize Elaine behind.  
  
Mrs. Mapleton – and certainly Max – is far easier to deal with. Of course the inn can manage without Idelle and Featherstone, that’s the easy part. Getting in touch with Anne Bonny is more difficult, since no one knows where she or Rackham is, and Vane can’t help. One can only hope Featherstone finds her in time. Someone has to keep an eye on Billy in the meantime, and Vane is the best option for that. Idelle sighs as she hurries to her room and get herself ready. She doesn’t use trousers very often, but a dress is no good on the horseback.  
  
She’s almost done when she hears Featherstones’s soft knock on the door.  
  
”Yes?”  
”She’s here and the horses are ready.”  
”Good. Hurry up and get changed and don’t forget extra guns.”  
”What if he can’t ride?”  
”That’s why you’re coming. If Anne can get Ben out, I’ll keep watch over him while she make’em pass out. And you’re her backup.”  
”Me? Why not Vane?”  
”Because Vane is the only one that can keep Billy calm, and if we bring bad news someone has to be with him.”  
  
_Someone that can stop him from making a blood vessel._ Not that Idelle don’t want to see these assholes dead, but men often kill there enemies off too early and Billy might regret that later. Idelle is a girl who’s always preferred her vengeance cold. If someone did this to Max, she know she’d regret if her feelings took over and gave the assholes an easy ending. You simply can’t rely on overheated men, used to have their knives and bullets as anwers when things are getting ugly. Billy Bones is, despite what Flint and Silver – silly men! – think, a man just as passionate as Vane when it comes to retaliate people he loves. Idelle has no doubts Billy could, if not getting his hands on the bastards, take his own life if Ben is dead and that’s why Vane can’t leave him now.  
  
Idelle almost shivers from her thoughts, as she and Featherstone get down to Anne Bonny and sits up. The redhead is a perfect companion for this. She has the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox, not to mention the best god damn handle with knives on the island. But more than that, people who’s not been very long in Nassau, always underestimate her and that’s a better advantage than men like Flint, Vane and Silver understands. A man will immediatly be seen as a greater threat and increase the risk that Ben, if he’s still alive, will be killed off quicker in an attempt for the villains to escape without someone left to tell the tale. The sight of a woman, or two, could maybe give them some time. Not much, but when it comes to life and death, seconds matters. Idelle isn’t used to give orders, and she swallows.  
  
”You know what to do? I’ll show the way, we leave our horses on a little distance and Anne take’em out. No killing, if it’s not necessairy to keep us alive. Featherstone, you’ll help me get Ben into the most comfortfable position we could get and while you and Anne keep watch over him and the bastards, I get Vane.”  
”Wait? Why can’t Ben just ride with us?”  
  
Idelle and Anne exchange looks that says it all and Idelle uses her most patient voice.  
  
”Because, if Ben’s been hold a captive for this long with a jealous, religious fanatic out for Billy, that knows Billy and Ben are fucking, he’s only alive because she’s torturing him.”  


Featherstone just looks stunned and Anne snorts.  
  
”Are we fucking moving, or what?”  
  
They leave in speed with Idelle in the front, knowing it might already be too late.  
  
TBC


	12. Chapter 12

”No, havn’t seen her for a whole week. She usually comes home on Sundays, for service, but she sent a message to pastor Lamberth she was sick. She’s a hard worker, my little Elaine, and a truly God fearing woman.”  
  
Nowadays, John naturally didn’t come across religious fanatics, but he was by no means unfamiliar with them and it was a damn luck he’d convinced James to stay away from sight. He was too wellknown, but not everyone had seen the one-legged Long John Silver with their own eyes. By her unconcearned look, Mrs. Williams most certainly hadn’t. John gave the woman in bonnet his most gracious smile.  
  
”We’ve only heard good things about her, Mrs. Williams. A truly virtuous girl and God knows this place is in need for that.”  
”That is exactly what I use to say, Mr…?”  
”Meeks. Billy Meeks, it is.”  
”Billy Meeks? Wait… Elaine spoke of someone named Billy. Are you on familiar terms?”  
”Oh no, Mrs. Williams, not at all. But as you know more than anyone, Ms. Elaine is a skilled seemstress and sometimes she helps our girls to sew.”  
”You mean, the whores?”  
”I can assure you, Mrs. Williams, that if anything could help those poor girls on the right path, it’s a decent trade for respectable women. And who’s better to teach them, than the daughter of an experienced seemstress? She has a good influence on the girls and never goes near the serving room. No one has ever seen her leave the girls and go out on her own. Which is why, as you can imagine, her friends are worried.”  
  
Flint cleared his throat.  
  
”You said she spoke of a man named Billy. Is he a friend of hers?”  
”My daughter does not associate with men on so familiar terms, Mr…?”  
”Pole. Charles Pole. Pardon me for my lack of manners. I should’ve introduced myself proparly.”  
”No offence taken, Mr. Pole. I’m grateful for your concern for my daughter, but I’m afraid I don’t know where she might be.”  
”You don’t sound very worried, ma’m.”  
”The Lord watches over my little girl, Mr. Pole. He watches over us all.”  
  
John stroke his beard and put on a pius face.  
  
”God be praised for His endless love and mercy, Mrs. Williams. But nontheless, we’d like to find her. Her friends are so very upset by her abscense and we promised we’d not stop searching until we find her. Of course, she might just have gone for a long walk, but it’s not like her to leave without telling anyone. Could you think of any place were she might be? The island has many beautiful spots if you need some peace an quiet.”  
  
He was good at this. Very good. The woman adjusted her bonnet and smiled.  
  
”Well, I’m not sure if she use to visit it anymore, but my little Elaine was always so very fond of our old house. She cried when we moved, poor sensitive girl. You see, we lived more secluded before my husband passed away, God have mercy on his soul. But we had to come closer to town in order to earn our keep, so we left our little house. Elaine was devestated.”  
”So you say she sometimes visit that house?”  
”She used to, but that was years ago. I don’t think anyone lives there, thou.”  
”And where is your old house located, Mrs.Williams?”  
”North-east, about six miles from town. It’s a white house, at least it _was_ white, now I wouldn’t know. There’s an orange plantation not far from it.”  
”And an old mill?”  
”Yes! That is correct. Poor old Mr. Andrews… no sons to take over and now it’s falling apart. Oh, well, the Lord will come for us all and no one will know the day or hour…”  
  
John smiled again and bowed.  
  
”Thank you so much for your time, Mrs. Williams. You have been most helpful.”  
”It was my pleasure. May I offer you some tea, Mr. Pole?”  
”You are very kind, Mrs. Williams, but we really need to be on our way now. We mustn’t let Ms. Elaines friends wait too long. They are very worried.”  
”Of course, Mr. Pole. And please, when you see my Elaine, would you be so kind to ask her to come visit me next Sunday?”  
”Certainly, Mrs. Williams. Once again, thank you for your help. Good day.”  
”Godspeed, Mr. Pole.”  
  
John waited until he was out of earshot before he muttered:  
  
”Fuck you, Mrs. Williams.”  
  
TBC


	13. Chapter 13

”You mean they _knew_ where she could be?”  
  
Vane shrugged.  
  
”It’s hardly my fault you left without talking to Idelle. I was actually surprised when she told me.”  
”And you let them leave on their own?”  
”Anne is way more dangerous than you and I combined when it comes to take out people quietly and you know that. But, by all means, go after them. I stay here.”  
  
James got a worried look in his face. They were standing just outside the room.  
  
”How’s he holding up?”  
”Good, when he’s asleep.”  
”And when he’s not?”  
”As bad as one could expect. If things end up badly, I’m not even sure we should stop him.”  
”Stop him?”  
”From putting an end to it.”  
”Jesus…”  
  
James sounded horrified, but Vane just puffed out a cloud of smoke from his cigarr.  
  
”There are limits, Flint. Some things not even the nigh on inbreakable Billy Bones can’t get over. You and Silver, you’re all grand emotions and cunning schemes. You always forget who’s been the one holding your ranks, putting his needs aside in order to maintain some fucking control in the chaos you create.”  
”Oh, but you know?”  
”Billy and I were lovers for a long time, Flint. I know him far better than you and Silver and when he gives himself, he gives it all. If he looses his husband, it doesn’t matter if we keep watch. In one way or another, sooner or later he’ll take his own life.”  
”He can endure it... I…”  
”You’re not him, Flint. And you have Silver.”  
”What John and I share is…”  
”Special?”  
  
Vane let out a hard laughter.  
  
”There we have it. The neverending underestimation of Nassau’s most loyal crew member. You, Silver, Mr. Gates… every fucking man close to Billy, claiming to know him yet doesn’t understand a shit. Who do you think he came to, when Ben could hardly hold up in the beginning? When Billy was fucking exhausted and desperate and you and Silver were occupied with your little plots and circling around each other.”  
”I’m not one to ask who my men are fucking.”  
”We didn’t fuck! Jesus… We talked, but more important: I fucking _listened_ to him.You have no idea how much love he has for Ben. That man is Billy’s fucking heartbeats, Flint, and he’ll follow him to whatever end, I’ll tell you that. So, I strongly suggest you put your faith in Anne Bonny and Idelle, and keep your horse saddled and ready.”  
”Can I stay?”  
”If you like, but you can’t see him.”  
”Why? He’s my first mate.”  
”A first mate who’s a fucking wreck and almost managed to knock me out before he calmed down. I’m not keen on keeping him from strike down the person who tied him to the bed in the first place, and I don’t want another wreck to handle.”  
  
  
TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Maybe she’s right. What if this truly _is_ God’s punishment? The act of piracy is punishable by death, but the pardons were widely accepted. For the love called an abomination there is no pardon. At least not in this world. The pain is sharp and constant, but not enough to keep Ben unconcious. The only comfort he’s offered is the mercy of laying on the side and some mouthfuls of water. There’s not a single piece of his body left where they havn’t erased every trace of his husbands touch.  
  
But is it right to call him that? Husband. Only a woman can marry a man, and to be honest, they don’t even have an official matelotage. To separate the act of love from the act of procreation is a sin, and two men can’t make children. For endless hours, this man and woman have punished him for sharing another man’s bed. Finally the’ve left him alone long enough for him to wake up from the unconsciousness by himself, than by their hands. And a part of him is close to believe them.  
  
What else can explain all this pain? Maybe Billy never even bothered to look for him? Has he taken another lover already and forgot all about Ben? If he’s been in the way, the one stopping Billy from caring about a woman, now Billy has his chance. There’s no contract between them, not even an illegal, ungodly one, even if they’ve been thinking of themselves as husbands.  
  
The pain in his nethers hit him once again and he bite his tongue not to let out a cry. _This is how sinners like you will be punished in the fires of hell, if you don’t repent and do penance for it. The eternal fire and darkness awaits the one who doesn’t turn his face from sin. The sweetness of sin last for a moment, the punishment for not repenting is an eternity of suffering. The choice is yours.  
  
_ The last days of torture have left his mind even more torn than his body. When he search for the sweet memories with Billy, they’re harder and harder to reach. Thinking of moments of intimacy and lustful love disgusts him. They had no right to take pleasure in that act and now God is punishing them for it. Punishing Ben for being submissive in the most unnatural way, more so than Billy, and punishing Billy for giving his seed to a man – no, a _molly_ – instead of a woman. For not procreate, refusing the gift of sons that a wife could bring him.  
  
Is it right to ask God to return him to Billy’s arms? If they promise not to sin again, not to touch each other in a sinful way? If Ben promise to ban every lustful thought from his heart and never be more than a brother to Billy, would God spare them more pain? Could Ben get to see the man he loves if he never touch him again? Never kiss, never lay in naked embrace. Never taste his skin, shiver under his touch or cry out his name again. If he promise to die inside, will God give him forgiveness in exchange for a loveless life on Earth?  
  
_If I suppress my lust for him, can I see him again, if only for a moment? My body and my mind are shattered, but even if I stay chaste for the rest of my life, I can’t force my heart. It’s his, in whatever form I can give it to him. I’ll never love another, could never pretend to love a woman, or another man the way I love him. You can take me from his arms, Lord, but my heart is forever his and no etarnal damnation or salvation can make it beat for anyone or anything else but him._  
  
  
TBC


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the rescue party is a bit messy, but you know it's not easy to keep Vane, Silver and Flint in line. Thank heavens for Anne and Idelle.

A good whore knows when to moan loud. And she also knows when to keep dead fucking silent. Idelle follows Anne through the rampant, forsaken garden, sneaking on all four like a cat. No sign of Ben yet, but there’s light in the old house. And voices. No, _one_ voice. Elaine’s. She’s singing, and not very well. Behind Idelle, Featherstone is a bit to heavy on the steps and recieves angry looks from his fellow rescue team.

Anne has one of her knives between her teeth and without her long coat and hat, her short figure looks deceptively small. She’s close to the window now, sliding up against the wall with the easyness of a professional home invader and looks carefully through the window. With a small nod and three fingers, she confirms all three targets are in there, and that Ben, thank God, is alive. A raised flat palm and two fingers next. Idelle and Featherstone know what to do.  
  
Sliding – Idelle – and crawling – Featherstone – they move to the backside of the house and Anne’s eyes havn’t betrayed her. There’s a door, locked of course, but Featherstone has already loaded his gun, pointing it at the lock as he waits for Anne’s signal. Idelle is ready. She’s never had much opportunities to practice shooting, but she’s not that bad. She takes a deep breath.  
  
Everything happens very fast. The sound is ringing in her ears from the shot, blocks some of the noises as Anne, followed by Featherstone, kicks the door open and enters. Three more shots and screams following get through the ringing and when the smoke clears, two figures are laying on the floor and one sitting in a chair. One woman, two men and one of them is Ben.  
  
”Idelle, your cloth! Quickly!”  
  
Featherstone holds Ben’s right arm. He’s been hit, but not by a bullet. The long knife on the ground, only half an arms lenght from the mad woman, tells it was a call so close it was about seconds and angles. A few inches to the right, and it would’ve been too late. Idelle is kneeling beside the thrashed figure – _oh, God, she’s not squeamish, but this is just…_ she has to force herself to keep her insides from pushing over.  
Ben, or what used to be Ben, is moaning so quiet it sounds like an animal drawing it’s last breaths.  A quick overlook shows no signs of a mortal wound, at least not as far as Idelle’s knowledge goes, but how are they gonna move him without causing further damage?  
  
She uses her cloth to stop the bleeding and Ben’s moans turns to screams of pain. Anne has already disarmed and tied up the couple on the floor. The woman is still praying, loud and demanding, as if she expect God to show up any second.  
  
But there are no gods here, only Anne Bonny and her knives. When the bastards are as threatless as they could be, Featherstone and Idelle moves Ben to the floor. Their coats functions as a poor excuse for a mattress and they make sure to put him on his side. Anne nods at Idelle.  
  
”Is it mortal?”  
”Not yet, but it’s severe enough to become if he doesn’t get help soon.”  
”Then go get Vane. Now!”  
  
Anne’s voice is sharp as a lash and Idelle runs back to her horse, jumping up as if she’s never done nothing but it. She’s on her way with full speed and it doesn’t take much time before she sees, not Vane but John fucking Silver, out of all people. Idelle holds her horse so quickly, she almost loose balance.  
  
”The fuck are _you_ doing on a horse? Where’s Vane?”  
”Taking care of Billy while I have questioned a certain Elaines religious looney of a mother and finally found out where she is, since you and Anne didn’t bother to wait for help, but by all means, _you’re welcome_.”  
”We found him and he’s alive. And so are the bastards. Anne took them out and they’re all tied up now. I’m heading back to get Vane and a carriage.”  
”I’ll get the carriage and you tell Vane. Billy is a total wreck and it’s better for everyone if Vane is staying with him, since he’s apparantly the only one who can calm him. How alive is he?”  
  
Idelle shrugs.  
  
”No mortal wounds as far as I could tell and no mutilation, but otherwis he’s fucking torn. Billy mustn’t see him before doctor Howell has examined him. He’ll just make himself and Ben upset and that could be dangerous now.”  
”I’ll tell Anne and Featherstone to take him to the inn. When you’ve seen Vane, send James to get the doc.”  
”Why didn’t he come with you?”  
”He did, but I sent him back to report about the loony’s mother. And don’t give me that look. I didn’t loose two legs, I can ride a fucking horse.”  
”So let’s fucking ride then!”  
  
_Men!_ Always making things far too complicated.  
  
TBC  



	16. Chapter 16

He can’t stop him. Vane looses his footing and falls to the floor as Billy runs through the door. Fuck! That damn window, in sight from bed and open. Of course he could see and hear and not being restrained anymore, having some rest and food makes Billy almost impossible keep still. He’s reached the approaching rider, it’s Idelle, and seconds later Billy’s down on his knees, burying his face in his hands. Vane’s heart almost stops by the sight, but then he sees Idelle. She looks at Vane, gives a nod and a little smile.  
  
_So he’s alive then._ Vane is not a religious man in any way, but in this moment he sends a prayer of thanks to whatever power on earth that didn’t bring his former lover a corpse. When he gets to the kneeling man on the ground, he takes him in his arms. Idelle has a look of sheer compassion in her face and Vane gives her a smile, saying _thank you_. That’s all he can muster right now. Days and nights of almost unbearable worry and pain take there toll on his former lover, who’s crying, jabbering incoherently and clinging on to Vane’s arms.  
  
”Take me to him!”  
  
Idelle bites her lip.  
  
”That’s not a good idea…”  
” _Take me to him!_ ”  
  
Billy’s screaming, no wonder, but Vane sees Idelle’s look and understands. He uses his most loving voice, the one that usually makes Billy listen to him.  
  
”Billy, darling, listen to me. Ben is alive and he’s coming back to you, but you must be calm when you see him. You understand me? You have to be strong enough not to upset him and at this moment you’re not.”  
”You’re gonna keep him from me? _Keep my man from me!?_ ”  
  
Billy’s voice is raising several octaves and Vane grabs him hard by the chin.  
  
”Listen! We’re not keeping him from you, we’re helping him! I know you, Billy, and you wont be able to stay calm once you see him again. He’s wounded, perhaps in shock, and he can’t have _anyone_ boiling his feelings right now. It could be dangerous to him and you know that.”  
  
The struggle to move just drops dead and Billy becomes a boneless pile of heartwrenching cries in Vane’s arms. _That’s right_ , Vane thinks, holding him softly. _Let it go, my darling. I’m your rock for as long as you need one. Just because we couldn’t make each other happy, it doesn’t mean I don’t care for you._

Billy suddenly digs in his pocket, sobs getting heavier as he open his hand. Both Vane and Idelle get dumbstruck from the sight.

”Was gonna ask him… Waited for _days_ , for the right moment…”  
  
The ring is a simple one, but nontheless beautiful. Neither Vane or Idelle seem to have any words suitable for this sign of love that has been laying in Billy’s pocket during these ugly, tormenting days. All Vane can think of, is the agonizing cries he’s heard while keeping Billy company and Idelle, not being one to share tears often even as a little girl, swallows hard. She’s not a romantic person and marriage was never a goal in life for her, but this has her heart aching. She never for a moment believes life to be fair, but some cruelties are simply too much to ask a human being to bare without accusing gods, fate or the whole world for injustice.

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

He has no tears left. Every nerve is numb, his thoughts blurred but not scattered. He takes it in, the sight of the man he already calls husband in his heart, and his feelings are shut down. He remembers having cried, possibly for a very long time, in Vane’s arms. And now, when he finally gets to see, to touch, to be near the other half of his heart again, he can’t feel anything.  
  
The broken body on the bed has been well taken care of by skilled hands, but Billy doesn’t see the work of caring hands. He sees the head with it’s ill cut locks. The golden hair that reached to the shoulders has been shorn in uneven tangles, an attempt to destroy beauty, as if a man could be anything but beautiful in the eyes of the one who’s heart is forever his to keep. The necklace is gone too. Every limb has wounds, bruises and markings. Every part of this sweet, loving man is badly hurt and the position Dr. Howell has put him in, doesn’t need to be explained to Billy.  
  
Why isn’t he crying now? His husband – yes, with or without a fucking ceremony and rings, this man _is_ his husband – is still on the brink of mortal danger with the loss of blood, the pain and shock making too much feelings or impressions deadly weapons. And that’s why Billy isn’t crying. Not out loud. Not a single tear slips his eyes, not a sound passes his lips when seeing what they’ve done to the man he loves more than life itself. If he didn’t knew it before, he does now. It’s like seeing the other half of his soul, a piece he never knew just how much he missed before he felt the pain of departure. The inexorable, agonizing pain of not getting to feel, see, hear or touch your reason to live to see another day. Now he’s here, but can’t be touched, can’t be hold close or whispered words of love and comfort to.  
  
Billy’s down on his knees, he’s too tall to be close to Ben while standing by the bed. He’s sleeping calmly – for now – and Billy can follow the markings from the knife that has deprived his husband of his golden crown, the red stripe around his neck where the necklace was ripped off and the cuts and bruises all over his face. A small, almost inaudible whimper escapes Billy’s mouth when he remembers the doubts he had their first time together. The  worry he’d shared with Vane: _He’s been through so much. What if I can’t be the one he need?  
  
_ And Vane’s calm eyes, his voice surprised as if Billy worried for nothing: _Look, you and I were never very good for each other, but no one will ever understand my heart better than you. When other men just talk shit and love the sound of their own voices, you fucking listen, Billy. You’re a pain in the ass sometimes, but if things doesn’t work out between you and Ben, I can fucking promise you it wont be because you didn’t understand him. Just cut the bullshit and admit you’re in love, you idiot._  
  
A firm, yet soft hand pulls him out of his memories. Vane is standing by his side, being a silent support, like a steady stick in the ground for a fragile plant to cling on to. Billy rests his head against his thigh, feeling his red and sore eyes getting heavier with every breath. He has only slept a few hours these last days, hours of unsatisfying sleep interrupted with tears and nightmares. Every nerve in his body is screaming for rest. Vane carefully leans down.  
  
”You need to sleep a little.”  
”I’m not leaving him…”  
”You don’t have to. Come here.”  
  
Vane sits against the wall, pulling Billy to his chest and drapes his arms around him. Billy can sleep comfortable almost everywhere and a wall in a dry house is better than many beds he’d had, even if it’s not the bed he would prefer. But in this moment, Vane’s warm, protective body is the best bed Billy could wish for. He leans back to him, lets his head rest against the steady heartbeats. Yes, he has to be strong now, stronger than ever for Ben’s sake, but he has a friend who can lend him enough strength to hold up. As Billy slowly drifts away in sleep, he hears Vane mumble against his hair.  
  
”You’re not alone, darling… I’ll do what I can to help you, both of you, through this. I promise. I promise, Billy…”  
  
TBC


	18. Chapter 18

They come and go. Night and day, shifting their silent presence in the house, never leaving them alone with the pain. Ben is mostly unconcious or delirious from opium or pain, Billy shifts between his usual self-control and tears, efforts to stay awake and falling into exhaustion. The room must never be dark, so the night is as bright as the day with lanterns and candles everywhere. Without the light, Ben will scream himself to sleep, opium or not.  
  
They are there with them. Vane, Flint, Idelle and Silver. Anne and Featherstone. Four hours at the time, scheduled, silent watch. For tending to Ben, but also Billy. Flint reads to him, Idelle is sewing on a new shirt for Ben and brings food, wine and fruit from Max. Anne just sits dead silent with murder in her gaze – strangely enough a kind of comfort too, knowing this upsets her, and Silver is for once not an endless stream of talk. He’s mostly reading in silence, but never absentminded, always ready to give a hand with anything. The pain in his leg has made him very attentive to signs of pain from others. At least from people he cares for.  
  
Featherstone turns out to be a very good cook. Not a John Silver-good cook, but an actual cook. Billy has no appetite, but Vane only needs to raise an eyebrow to silence any protest. Yes, it’s Ben who’s sick and wounded, but these days have hardly been easy for Billy either. The only even remotely close to this experience, is when he was press ganged, and later saved by Flint. Although it’s not the same at all. He’s not a scared and lonely child now, he’s a grown man grieving and worrying sick for his beloved husband, having his sleep interrupted with nightmares only Vane sees close. When his four hour watch is ended, he very rarely leaves the house. He’s getting Billy through the nights, the tears, the helplessnes and despair when Ben’s angst-ridden screams echoes through the walls and he doesn’t recognize Billy.  
  
The days are a little easier. Not much, but sunlight seems to calm Ben a little faster, so they move the heavy and clumsy bed to the window in order for him to get as much light and fresh air as possible. Scents are also helping. Scents reminding of home, of comfort and happiness. It’s Max who discovers that, one day when she’s bringing fresh bread from the inn and puts the basket beside the bed. Maybe it’s just her imagination, but it’s nontheless a welcome scent in a room that mostly smells from all but pleasant body fluids and wounds. Ben is breathing lighter and Max puts a newly baked bread roll close to his nose, seeing how his breath seems just a little less rapid and well, that’s enough for her.  
  
Later that day, Idelle shows up with a basket full of perfumed oils and soap, little fabric bags with lavender, fresh linen for the bed and, specifically for Billy, some bottles with the finest wine and rum from the inn. Then she simply puts an apron on, ties up her hair and sends Vane for water while making a bigger fire. The small house has a little chamber where they have their bed, and moving Ben from the bed to a mattress on the floor, while changing the bed linen, isn’t an easy task, but not impossible.  
  
Washing Ben is something Billy doesn’t want anyone else to do but him. His husband is already so exposed, Billy desperately wishes to keep as much of his nakedness covered as possible. So while Idelle and Vane are cleaning the house, Billy tends to Ben’s sore body with as much tenderness he possesses. The wounds are slowly healing, but he’s still in great pain. If he’s just between wake and sleep, his muscles go tense from the barest of touches, so every touch must be done without any rush or unnecessairy hardness.  
  
He has a soap with lemon fragrance and an orange oil to wash Ben and make the abused skin a little smoother. Instead of a razor blade, he uses a scissor to the beard. He doesn’t dare to use something as sharp as a razor so close to Ben’s throat, but he still wants to tend to his beard, since he knows Ben wants it short. And the hair… it’s stupid to take so much notice of some shorn locks when there are so much worse wounds, but it reminds Billy of slavery. Of people taking the liberty of depriving a man his identity, his dignity. It will grow back, eventually, but it’s a reminder of a world demanding men to change who they are, in order to be obedient sheeps following the shepherd without question.  
  
Washing the tangles also reminds him of how much he longed to touch, caress and kiss Ben’s hair before the nervous man finally let him do it. How he nuzzled against the sunkissed locks, trying to fill every part of his lungs with the warm scent. Ben had laughed and blushed, so adorably surprised by Billy’s eagerness and completely unaware of how desireble he was. To find such innocence in a man was something Billy didn’t thought to be possible, especially not with the life experiences Ben had.

The floor is a pool of soaped water when Billy’s done, but it has gone surprisingly well. Opium is no gurarantee for staying calm, but with Ben it seems to work. Billy dries him, combs the hair with his fingers and tends to the wounds, before dressing him in a big, long shirt. So far, his husband has been unconscious and not felt any pain great enough to wake him, thank God, but moving him to the bed is harder and Billy has to ask Vane for help. The man throws an impressive look at Ben’s transformed appearance before helping him back to bed, a look that turns soft when he watches Billy tuck his husband to bed, pressing a soft kiss on his temple.  
  
”Silver’s here. To keep watch.”  
”I can stay with Ben now.”  
”You’re exhausted and you need to eat, not to mention take a bath. You reek.”  
  
Billy can’t help but smiling a little, his first smile in many days.  
  
”Never thought I’d see the day _you_ telling _me_ I reek.”  
”Usually you discover that by yourself. If I sense it, you must be really dirty. Lucky for you, there’s plenty of hot water left.”  
  
TBC


	19. Chapter 19

When was the last time a bath had felt this good? Bathing was a luxuary at sea and required some work at home. A _hot_ bath with perfumed soap was heaven. Vane snorted at his blissful face and sat down beside the tub.  
  
”Careful not to fall asleep in there.”  
”I should give you and Max some gold for this, if I had any. Oh, fuck, that was… _much_ needed…”  
  
Vane’s hands worked through his neck and shoulders, who were more than tense after these agonizing days. There’d never been many people Billy’d felt comfortable with touching him in any way and the first time Vane had offered him a massage he was more than suspicious. That was years ago, of course, but his former lovers hands still knew their way over his upper back and Billy sighed with pleasure.  
  
”Fucking love you, Charles…”  
”As long as you’re not _in_ love with me, I promise I wont drown you.”  
”If that happens, you have my permission to drown me.”  
  
Just a little light to shine through the last days horrific web. It was, actually, a wonderful feeling to wash away the external signs of it. The internal ones was a whole different thing, but Billy needed to pretend for a moment. After a while, Vane gave him the towel and went outside to let him dress in private. Not that it was a problem if he saw him naked, but out of respect for the man in the chamber.  
  
A clean body, clean clothes. After all the years at sea, Billy still never felt comfortable being dirty. To put on some fresh clothes hadn’t felt this good since getting released from Hume. He went to the chamber and found John sitting on the floor, reading. Ben was sleeping and John turned his head.  
  
”You almost look human again.”  
”Thanks to Charles.”  
”I’ll pay him for the good work. Have you eaten anything?”  
”Not yet. Had to see how he’s…”  
  
He didn’t finish. Ben had moved a little and Billy put a finger to his lips, not wanting any talking to wake his husband. He went to his knees beside the bed, just watching the sleeping beauty with golden hair and a shirt too big for him. _You’re so beautiful, my love… The most beautiful man on Earth…_ In that way it wouldn’t matter what they’d done to his body. Ben would forever and always be more beautiful to him than any other living creature. The now bandaged hands that used to sneak up around Billy’s waiste and slipping under the shirt with thumbs stroking teasingly over his skin. Only so light a touch, and it could make him loose sense of time.  
  
Billy close his eyes, trying to hold on to the picture. The asking fingertips, one of very few things that reminded just a little of Vane, as if they both had some overnatural knowledge about Billy’s body. It wasn’t only Ben that needed slowness in the beginning. He did too. Questions with every touch. _Can I? Feels good? How do you like it? You want me to? Like this?_ As if it wasn’t only Ben being fragile… It had been an almost overwhelming experience, not having to hide or deny old wounds. He didn’t have to hide them from Vane either, but Ben’s touch was something more than just an accepting, understanding knowledge.  
  
It was as if he wished to erase every remaining trace of discomfort, pain and shame from Billy’s skin. To cover every painful memory of beating, torture, starvation, rape, loneliness and misery in soothing gentleness. _Just touching you, Billy… I could do it forever…_ Little whispers in the twilight, the bow of a smile to be felt with fingers, with lips. How he used his own memories to orient himself through the scars on Billy’s body. The way he nuzzled against his arms, joking about how he’d seen grown, hard working men with thighs smaller than Billy’s biceps. _And you’re mine… I still can’t believe it. If I wasn’t so damn happy I’d be jelous as soon as anyone looks at you. I know you care for the crew, love, but if Jacob Garrett keeps staring at you like he’s ready to jump on your cock any second, I might get violent, just so you know… If I’m to share you, I want to know about it before it happens…_ As if Billy would want anyone else but Ben Gunn… __  
  
So oblivious around Billy. So shy around others in the beginning, always visibly relaxing when Billy was near. How he refused to go to bed alone, no matter if Billy would be in another room or just outside. It could’ve been tiresome, it most certainly would’ve been if Billy didn’t have his own memories. And if he hadn’t started to care for the quiet, lonely man who just longed for someone to care for himself. But it was beautiful. Hours, days and nights of slow closeness, a warm body to hold tight. Quiet, peaceful time to teach a man how patient lust could be if entwined with care. Of course, sometimes it had been frustrating, for both of them. When they were laying so close Billy couldn’t tell wich pulse was hammering against his skin, when the longing almost took a physical form on it’s own, crashing inside his mind with every stroke in his blood, every unintentional twitch and jerk from their clothed hips. Frustrating, addictable and worth it.  
  
He needs to loose himself in memories, unless the present will break him. To remember how the talking had turned to laughs and the laughs to kisses. Kisses going wilder and eager, with Ben’s tongue stirring his mouth, sending strokes of wanting down his spine and making his cock leave wet spots on the front of his pants, leaking like a chapped barrel. How they had to stop, time after another, to chase a demon instead of pleasure and how Ben sometimes, when feeling useless and angry, turned his frustration against Billy, trying to make him loose his patience by teasing him and then draw back. It didn’t work. At least not in the way Ben thought it would. _It doesn’t matter how much you try to make me sleep with another man. It won’t work, you know. I’ll just rub one out and keep fucking waiting, you idiot! Why?! I don’t know why, it’s just how it fucking is, Ben. It’s who I am._  
  
Who he is when he’s so insanely lost it takes months before he finally realizes his lust for that man is irrevocably tied to how much he loves him.  
  
TBC


	20. Chapter 20

”Back off! You can’t touch me anymore, Billy Bones. Never again! And it’s not Ben for you, it’s Mr. Gunn!”  
  
He’d been prepared for all of it. The angst, nightmares, self-hatred and despair. For fear of being touched, being hurt again. For disgust. He’d been through something similar himself, for Gods sake. _But not the name_. Not the way his husband puts more bars between them, not just between their bodies but their hearts, by refusing to acknowledge any personal bond what so ever. _They’ve made me a stranger to you, so now you’re trying to make yourself a stranger to me._ Billy let his hand fall and stepped away, putting even more distance between him and the man in the corner.  
  
”Husband, please…”  
”Don’t fucking call me that! It’s all your fault, Mr. Bones. You deceived me and I was too weak to resist! We’ve mocked the sanctity of marriage and turned it into sin and by right we should burn for it! And I made a sacred promise never to let any man touch me like that again, if God would spare me. He can save you too, Mr. Bones!”  
  
Billy has experienced a lot, and a great deal of things most people will never consider possible. He has survived more deadly threats than the avarage soldier during a war, outlived the most hopeless situations of captivity, starvation, uncharted seas, dangerous captains and desperate crews. He knows how shame can be used as a weapon, how it can separate you from people you love, penetrate your soul until all happiness is wiped out from your mind and turn you against your own body in disgust. But religious shame, that’s new to him.

It shouldn’t be. He’s born and raised in England and he attended church with his parents every Sunday like everyone else. It was just something you did. You thanked a very invisible God for the food your mother had cooked, for the house your father had built and promised to be a good boy. You knew you should obey, be grateful and not question your parents, but William and Katherine Manderly were more interested in knowledge than obedience.  
  
He discovered the difference between his parents and other adults quite early. Neighbors who told his father to learn mother ”her place” and told his mother not to ”spare the rod” when Billy came with his questions. Truth was, they rarely spanked him, but when he was about seven they told him not to mention that to others. Not slapping your wife was already strange and not spanking your child regularly was just plain unnatural. They said their prayers, but never talked about the sermons in church or read the Bible at home. Talking to God was just something you had to do once a week at church and before every meal.  
  
Billy looks at his husband – yes, he will fucking call him by his rightful name, even if he has to do it in silence – who’s crouching in the corner. Billy’s parents would’ve loved Ben, but would they understand the way _Billy_ loves him? Would they see it as a sin, a perversion like the so called civilized world does? Maybe it’s his mind trying to protect the memory of them, but he so much want to believe they’d understand at least a little of it. His parents married for love, against their parents will. They spoke their mind, talked about the importance of education and freedom. Billy would like to believe they would accept and welcome Ben as Billy’s husband.  
  
”Ben…”  
”Mr. Gunn!”  
  
Billy swallows. If Ben can’t stand being called husband right now, it’s understandable, but no fucking way they’re switching to formal addressing.  
  
”I wont call you by your family name, Ben.”  
”Mr…”  
”Ben! You’re _Ben_ to me, dammit! You hear that? They’ve already taken you from my arms, but they’re  _not_ gonna take your name from me! You were Ben to me and I was Billy to you long before I knew I loved you so to hell with that Mr. Gunn and Mr. Bones bullshit!”  
  
It’s not the first time he has raised his voice at Ben, but it’s the first time he’s shouting at the man. Ben looks all confused and frightened – by thoughts of sin, memories of torture or Billy’s barking, who knows? – but he doesn’t shout back and Billy tries to calm his voice, making it softer.  
  
”You and I, Ben, we’re not strangers or distant acquaintances and you can’t expect me to pretend we are. I wont try to make you do anything you don’t want, but in return you must admit we’re not strangers to each other. I promise not to call you husband or love out loud, or ask you to call me that, but only if you call me Billy and let me call you Ben.”  
  
If this is progress, it’s a fucking mockery to the very meaning of the word. He has to beg and even demand a man who less than three weeks ago was making cinnamon buns, kissing him and sharing his bed in greatest pleasure, to adress him in familiar terms.  
  
There’s only an arms lenght between them, and Billy can’t touch. But his outburst wasn’t all in vain. Ben shivers and it takes every ounce of willpower Billy has, not to reach out and comfort him. But the man he will always call husband in his heart gives a slight nod.  
  
”If it’s important to you, I’ll call you Billy.”  
  
_If it’s important? How’s a man not to cry by words like that from the man he loves?_  
   
”It is. And I’ll call you Ben. We’re not discussing this matter again. You hear that?”  
  
_Because if we do, it will destroy me._  
  
And Ben nods again. It’s a step so small and it has left them both exhausted and heartbroken, but at least one barrier is broken now. Billy doesn’t want to know how many more there are.  
  
TBC


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never thought I'd see the day when I wrote a story where Vane would turn out to be the voice of love and reason, but I guess anything is possible...

”No more.”  
”Don’t fucking tell me how much to drink, Charles!”  
”I don’t give a shit if you’re drunk, but you always get fucking nightmares when you drink while being miserable. You’re not helping anyone with that and you’re impossible to be around when you’re hungover and havn’t slept.”  
”What are you, my mother?”  
”Well, that would put a whole different meaning to the word motherfucker, wouldn’t it?”  
”Fuck you, Charles.”  
”You’re welcome.”  
”Maybe I should leave him… What’s left of him…”  
  
When had his voice become so bitter? Oh, yeah. About three hours ago, when Anne replaced him. Ben had finally went back to sleep again and Billy didn’t know what to do but open and finish one of the bottles he’d received from Max. And some of the ale from the barrel in the kitchen. Or quite much of it. He was a big man who needed a lot to get drunk, and drunk was exactly what he intended to be. He didn’t need Charles to keep watch over him like some overprotective mother.  
  
”It’s not even been two weeks yet, darling. Sorry, old habits… I sometimes forget I’m not your darling. Should I call you William?”  
”If you start calling me William instead of darling, I’ll most likely kill you with my bare hands.”  
”That’s the old, insufferable Billy I know and love. Just a little nowadays, but still.”  
”You do know I can’t stand it when you say that?”  
”Of course.”  
”Then why are you doing it?”  
”Just putting things in perspective. Eleven or twelve days… what’s that against how many months when you couldn’t even kiss him?”  
”Almost seven.”  
”Jesus, that many… I had forgot.”  
”So?”  
”I’m not trying to make what happened to Ben sound less disgusting than it is, or pretend you can put it behind you some day. You know I’m not like that.”  
”What’s your fucking point, Charles?”  
”Only that it’s too fucking early to give up, and that’s why your ’maybe I should leave him’ could be the most stupid thing I’ve heard from you since you refused to join my crew.”  
”If I had, I wouldn’t have met Ben and your crew would’ve killed both of us when they grew tired of our constant fighting.”  
”And loud fucking.”  
  
Billy couldn’t help but smirk.  
  
”That too. They would’ve killed us.”  
”Perhaps, but what a glorious way to go…”  
”You’re an insufferable man, Charles.”  
”You say that as if I didn’t know it myself. Which brings us back to what’s important here. Ben Gunn and his crew end up in cages in a maroon camp. He’s the only survivor and then _you_ end up there, starting the most unthinkable love story, due to Flint’s madness and a fucking storm at the exact right place in the right time. Then you’re not only surviving that shit, you bring Ben with you back to Nassau, take care of him and end up getting madly in love while planning my rescue.”  
”By the way, you’re welcome.”  
  
Vane stroke a thumb over Billy’s lip, looking at him with that rare, tender gaze reserved for the very few people who had a place in Vane’s heart.  
  
”You see my point now, stupid?”  
”That I shouldn’t give in yet…”  
”Pretty much sums it up, yeah. The Billy I know would be fucking miserable, but never give up if there’s a chance.”  
”You really think there’s a chance?”  
”If there wasn’t, you  wouldn’t be here, would you? Don’t tell me you regret you didn’t kill yourself all those years ago?”  
  
The press gang. Three years of slavery on a navy ship. Beatings, rapes, starvation, endless hard work without wages or any kindness. Nights crying for parents and a home he’d never see again. The word _suicide_ never far from his thoughts. But he didn’t do it and despite all the misery  he’s been through over the years, life never stopped being precious to him. He sighed.  
  
”Then what should I do?”  
”Endure. Don’t confuse those bastards words and thoughts with his. Give him space, but don’t leave him alone with their twisted ideas. Don’t lie to him, don’t fucking apologies for who you are and be as chaste as a monk until he’s drawn out in fucking light again.”  
”You sound awfully certain of this…”  
”Love aint that complicated, darling. Unless you fall for the ruler of Nassau, of course.”  
”Promise I won’t do that. Who’s the ruler now, by the way?”  
”Officially? Max, Flint and Silver. For real? Idelle and Featherstone.”

TBC


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”Cats don’t stay, Billy.”  
> ”Neither do people."

_If I suppress my lust for him, can I see him again, if only for a moment? My body and my mind are shattered, but even if I stay chaste for the rest of my life, I can’t force my heart. It’s his, in whatever form I can give it to him._  
  
”Ben! Ben! Wake up, darl… _please_! You’re having a nightmare.”  
”Get away from me!”  
”I’m just holding your hands, Ben. Your hands!”  
  
It’s not a sinful touch. His hands holding mine, helping me back to reality. The pain is always worse during night. In the darkness… A shiver runs through my body and Mr. Bon… _Billy_ lets go of my hands, fetching a clean shirt and a wollen blanket from the cupboard to drape around me. When I stop shaking, he hands me a cloth.  
  
”Dry the sweat off and put a dry shirt on. You’ll be ill if you get cold. I’ll make some tea.”  
”Thank you, Billy.”  
  
He’s a sinner, but he’s kind. I mustn’t judge him, we lead each other on and I’m to blame just as much as he. Maybe this is a test, to see if we can be close without falling again? It feels good to get some dry clothes on. Billy has put a brazier close to my bed and changes the linen. When he’s done, I crawl back and he hands me a cup with lemon tea. It tastes different.  
  
”This isn’t my brew, right?”  
”No, it’s a gift from Max.”  
”It’s really good.”  
”It will help you get warm again. A good thing we’re not in England. Fucking never gets warm there in spring.”  
”Scotland aint much better, tell you that. Edinburgh is like… home of all ice and snow until may. Couldn’t stand it.”  
”Well, lucky for us we’re in New Providence and can suffer from the sun instead. Does it help?”  
”What?”  
”The tea. You get any warmer?”  
”Yeah. Thank you.”  
  
He’s keeping the distance, as he should. I miss his touch so much I could cry, but I know it will only lead to damnation. That’s why God let me get captured. Not to make me care for women, but to show me how wrong and bad my lust for men was. It wasn’t love I felt when Billy and I sinned, it was only lust and I was punished for it with pain and humiliation.  
  
”Ben?”  
”Huh?”  
”You’re shaking again. Are you still cold?”  
”Don’t touch…”  
”I’m not touching you, I’m asking if you’re freezing.”  
”A little, yes.”  
”I’ll get you another blanket.”  
  
He sounds tired. Of course he must be. It’s late and my fit interrupted his sleep. He drapes the grey wollen fabric around me without touching. He mutters.  
  
”We should get a cat…”  
”What? For chasing rats?”  
”No, silly. To keep you warm.”  
  
It sounds stupid, but thinking about it, it’s not a bad idea. But then again, cats come and go as they please. They wont keep you warm if they don’t want to. Would be nice, thou… having something soft and warm again. It’s so sweet of Billy to think of me… I’m not used to sleep alone anymore and… Stop! _Just don’t go there, Ben._ He’s been nothing but decent while helping you this night and he didn’t touch you.  
  
”Cats don't stay, Billy.”  
  
He bites his lip and rises from the bed to sit on the floor.  
  
”Neither do people. Try to get some sleep now, Ben. The sun will rise in a few hours.”  
”You’re not going to bed?”  
”Can’t sleep, so I’ll just finish my tea and think of cats. Now shut up before all the warmth escapes from your mouth.”  
  
He sounds harsh, but he’s smiling and I make myself as comfortable as possible under the pile of blankets. Feels so good to be warm again, without giving in for the temptation of stealing the heat from his body, as I did before. Soon my body is completely warm and I feel myself slowly drifting away in the soft, safe warmth. It just doesn’t reach my heart, that is sitting on the floor, sipping on his tea and dreaming of cats.  
  
TBC


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To have that closeness taken from me, from us, is so painful I can only live through it minute by minute, telling myself it’s only today, Billy. Today you have to endure it, but tomorrow isn’t here yet and you can pretend, must pretend, that when tomorrow comes, the new day could return him to your arms.

_Endure_ , Charles said. _Eleven or twelve days… what’s that against how many months when you couldn’t even kiss him?_  
  
An eternity. The gap those animals have caused between us is wide, deep and all I can do is screaming from a distance, hoping Ben will hear me. To not getting to hold him, knowing my embrace only makes his inner demons meaner and more unforgiving is inner torment. He’s so near all the time, but out of reach for my touch. They didn’t only destroy his body or deprived him my touch. They have ripped our very souls apart. Almost.  
  
The one thing Charles, Flint, Silver and Blackbeard have in common, is their sense for drama. Everyone in their own way, but I’ve heard all of them express their emotions, love, passion or hate on different occasions. They are all men of big words and grand gestures, whether it be putting up the head from a threat to your unrequiet love on a stick, starting a war for the memory of a stolen love, making friends and enemies follow your lead by knowing the exact right words, or talking solemnly of the importance of marriage and sons, trying to make a grown man you’ve let down take the place as your heir.  
  
I’ve admired and been grateful to Flint, envied and feared Silver, enjoyd the passionate moments in Charles bed and Blackbeard… well, he’s just an old man who doesn’t understand that you can choose to be with only men, or one man only, with no women sharing your bed at all. He doesn’t care for Flint or Silver, and certainly not me, but Charles is the son he never had and that’s why he’s never said an insulting word about our relationship. He simply care for Charles too much to risk his rejection.  
  
With Ben there’s only the drama that comes from the outside and I had no idea how much I craved that lack of grand gestures, big words and schemes. To slowly get to know a man, when it’s only the two of you in the room, taking your time to find the right words without manipulative tricks. The adorable look on his face, when we woke up together the morning after we’d had sex for the first time. The way he reached for my hand and squeezed it hard later that day at the tavern, when the noises, smells and crowd still were just too much after the months in the cage. How I put my arm around him, kissing the golden hair in public for anyone to see. The blush on his cheeks, the tired eyes saying after a while that he need some air, some rest from the crowd.  
  
I didn’t know I needed to listen to his silly childhood stories or hear him read to me, mocking sententious texts with an immoderate Scottish accent and a face like a new, overwhelmed priest, taking himself far too serious. I didn’t know I needed to see him crosslegged on the floor while sorting herbs and stumble on his damn jars with dried mixtures scattered around him. I didn’t know you could fall in love with a silent presence, a sleepy smile and the mere sight of the way a man – _that_ man – rides you, undulating like a hot wave and lost in pleasure.  
  
Maybe it’s wrong to dwell in that kind of memories now, but I can’t help myself. I desperately miss his body close to mine in every way. More than anything I miss the little kisses, strokes and hugs scattered over every waking hour when we’re together. How easy you take that for granted, sighing in displease for not having sex in a week because one or both of you simply isn’t in the mood, when you still are lavishing sweet touches and loving smiles over each other, thinking _soon, darling, we’ll have time and lust for more, just wait._  
  
To have that closeness taken from me, from us, is so painful I can only live through it minute by minute, telling myself it’s only today, Billy. Today you have to endure it, but tomorrow isn’t here yet and you can pretend, _must pretend_ , that when tomorrow comes, the new day could return him to your arms.  
  
TBC


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All hail to Max and her knowledge of high and low. And to Idelle's prawn stew... (Comments are, btw, always appreciated <3)

”Why wont you let Billy help you?”  
”He mustn’t touch me anymore. It’s wrong.”  
  
Max doesn’t answer that. There is stupidity and there is madness. And she has been raped too. Hamund and the other men in Vane’s former crew didn’t make her love women any less by raping her, nor did Eleanors betrayal. But now is not the time to tell Ben that. Not while Max is shaving him. The man looks a little better now. Still bruised, but the markings are more pale and the eyes doesn’t have quite the same horrified expression. At least not all the time. But his hands are too unstable yet to handle the razor and he can’t stand to look in a mirror. Billy mustn’t help him, so today Max help out while listening to his litanies about sin.  
  
”Thou shalt not lie with mankind as with womankind, it is abomination. The Bible says it.”  
”Do you eat clams?”  
”Why?”  
”It’s just a question, dear. Do you eat clams? Or prawns?”  
”I do. What’s that got to do with this?”  
”Well, the Bible also says you mustn’t eat clams and prawns. Or wear clothes made of more than one kind of fabric. It also says a father has right to sell his own children as slaves, that a man sleeping with his wife when she has her monthlies is committing a sin and that it’s wrong for women to wear gold and pearls.”  
”Gold and pearls?”  
”Uh-huh. ’Likewise, I want women to adorn themselves with proper clothing, modestly and discreetly, not with braided hair and gold or pearls or costly garments.’ Timothy’s first letter, chapter two verse nine, if I remember it right.”  
”You know the Bible?”  
”I didn’t have much to do in the slave quarters when I was a little girl, but for some reason the slave who supervised the other house slaves, taught me to read. He was lettered and the only slave permitted in my fathers library.”  
”Your father?”  
”He was a white man and my mother his slave. He had a daughter with his wife as well, about my age. For some reason, the Bible didn’t forbid him to keep one of his daughters as a slave, but the slave who taught me how to read, was flogged and hanged for his kindness. I was later sold.”  
”But he was your _father_!”  
”And the Bible allowed him to sell me. ’If a man sells his daughter as a female slave, she is not to go free as the maleslaves do.’ Exodus chapter twentyone verse seven. Will never forget that passage.”  
”That’s just... fucking horrible!”  
”So is the passage condemning you and Billy. Please don’t talk right now, dear. Not while I’m holding a razor against your throat. It’s almost done.”  
  
Well, at least he’s not mad enough to keep talking and he seems to handle the presence of the razor blade quiet well. Doesn’t breathe heavily or start shaking. All done, Max smiles.  
  
”Much better. If I were you, I’d spend some time outside today and get some colour on those cheeks. And fresh air is good for your appetite.”  
”It is…”  
  
Quite lost in his thoughts now. The confusion is written all over his face and Max put the razor in it’s leather case.  
  
”Oh, by the way. I brought you some food from Idelle.”  
  
Ben wakes up from his thoughts.  
  
”Oh… thank you. That’s very kind.”  
”It’s just some bread and stew. With prawns.”  
  
TBC


	25. Chapter 25

”A cat you say?”  
”Yes, John. A cat. You know, quite small creatures with four paws, fur and a tail.”  
”I know what a cat is, Billy. Any other requests? A turtle, perhaps? Or a mermaid?”  
”A cat is fine. Preferably a cuddly sort.”  
”A cuddly cat?”  
”Or two. And some fish and cream.”  
”You have a problem with rats that doesn’t cuddle enough?”  
  
John looked amused and Billy sighed.  
  
”No. I have a husband who’s been raped and tortured and think it’s a punishment from God for sleeping with me.”  
”Christ…”  
  
The one-legged master schemer seemed genuinely upset.  
  
”He’s like… you can’t come near? At all?”  
”Not even holding hands.”  
”Shit, that’s just… I don’t know.”  
”Mad?”  
”Yeah. Speaking of mad, the abductors...”  
”And?”  
”They’re screaming their religious shit until they pass out, refuse to wash or eat and they’ve gotten some bad rashes in their faces. Probably infected.”  
  
Billy swallowed. He’d been so focused on Ben these days he hadn’t thought much about the people responsible for the horrors his love went through.  
  
”Are they ill? I mean, bodily.”  
”Yes. Look, Billy, if you want us to…”  
”No. Thank you, John, but I just can’t think of them now. Have to be calm and strong for Ben and I don’t think I can hold up if I face them. Not while Ben is… _God_ …”  
  
He somehow managed to hold his tears. Didn’t want to break down, not in front of John. He took a deep breath.  
  
”Look, could you get us a cat? He needs something, _someone_ , who can touch him without making him upset.”  
”Dogs are a little easier to control.”  
”That’s because they’re stupid. And they smell bad, don’t hunt rats and will probably jump on Ben and cause him more pain. Find me a cuddly cat or two, and I promise not to make Flint irritated for at least a month. I know he’s driving you mad with his silence and sighs when his irritated.”  
”And as every first mate worthy of his title, you’re fucking good at making you captain irritated. I’ll search out the cuddliest cats in Nassau for you, and kill anyone who tries to stop me. And then I’ll ransack Max’s supplies of cream and fish.”  
”Thank you.”  
  
They both smiled and Billy bit his lip.  
  
”Have to get back inside now.”  
”Of course. When the right moment comes, perhaps you could tell him we’ve not forgotten him. The crew, I mean. They send their regards to you both.”  
”Thank you. I’ll tell him.”  
  
To Billy’s great surprise, John gave him a firm hug.  
  
”You’re not alone, Billy. We’re all here for you.”  
  
TBC


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, cats. Kittens. I love them and so does Ben, I've decided.

”What’s this?”  
”Kittens.”  
”Yeah, I kind of see that, but what are they doing here?”  
”Getting rid of rats and mice, of course. Don’t you like them?”  
”Don’t be silly! You know I love cats.”  
”Then they’re yours. Let’s hope they stay.”  
  
He doesn’t hear me, but I don’t mind. Ben being all mirthful over the two furballs in the basket is the happiest thing I’ve seen since our last morning before the abduction.   
  
”It’s a brother and sister. Any name suggestions?”  
”Well, one’s red and the other black…”  
”Oh no! Stop right there, Ben. No fucking way we’re calling them…”  
”Flint and Silver?”  
”You can’t be serious?!”  
”You said they were _mine_ , Billy…”  
  
He’s _pouting_?! Next time I see John, I’ll give him gold. Or a kiss.   
  
”They are, but seriously, Ben… Flint and Silver?”  
”Just joking. How about we call the red one Ember and the black one… let’s see… Ardour?”  
  
_Glowing heat and devotion?_ That’s it. Gold _and_ a kiss for John later. I try to stay calm and not smile too wide at my darling man who already has the little animals in his arms, blind and deaf for everything else.   
  
”Ember and Ardour it is then.”  
  
God, my voice is hardly steady. Guess it’s a good thing all your focus is on the little ones, because I know I most likely look like a sappy idiot right now.   
  
”We have any fish for them?”  
”Fish and cream. Got plenty of it in town.”  
”Look at them, Billy… They’re so _small_.”  
  
_And your heart is so big I’ll most likely end up drowning in it._ In a better world, you’d never have to become a pirate. In a better world, you and I would’ve met ten years ago, my parents would still recognize me and there’d be nothing strange in presenting you to them: _Mother, father, this is Ben Gunn and we’re getting married. He makes the most delicious cinnamon buns and you’ll love him._ In a world we don’t live in, my love, I would’ve carried you on my shoulders, lifted my love for everyone to see. And you’re so pretty now with your beard all trimmed. Fucking love that beard, dark and just perfectly sticky when you kiss me… _  
_  
”Max helped you shave?”  
”Uh-huh. She brought food too. It’s on the table… _Hello there, little one_ … Where are you going, Ardour? Exploring your new home, huh? Alright then, you have a pretty good view from the bed. Over there’s the kitchen and I believe Billy’s got some treats you can have later…”  
  
Now my smile is definately too wide, but you don’t see me. The furballs have your attention and I have no problem what so ever being rejected for a while if it’s cats that are taking my place instead of your demons. I put the stew from Max over the cooking fire – the food smells delicious – and take some bread from one of the baskets on the table, silently wiping my eyes. We’ve received so many gifts since you came home. Food and wine, ale and clothes. Small bottles with fragrances and oils from Idelle to use for baths, soft bed linen and cushions and enough candles to make the nights bright as day.   
  
It was a woman who took you, and two women got you free. You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Idelle and Anne. Yes, we got help from so many people, but it was Idelle who was smart and clearheaded enough to know that a sneaky, silent Anne Bonny was the best person for the job. Men always underestimate women and women doesn’t see other women as threats immediately. That might have saved your life.  
  
We’ve not yet talked about what happened and these last three days you’ve improved just enough not to scream or worse, pass out, when you need to use the privy. I know at some point we have to talk about it, about the animals that are still alive since I honestly think it’s your right to take their miserable lives if you want to. But what revenge, what punishment could be enough for what they did to you? And the bitch is mad, Silver tells me, not even aware of where she is or who she is. Maybe the most cruel punishment would be to force them to live and constantly remind them, not with physical pain but in words, what damage they’ve done. Why should they be allowed to forget or receive the mercy of not having to live with themselves, when they’ve made my husbands life hell on earth?   
  
TBC  



	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My dream, it seems, fails to see the mornings  
> My one and only aim  
> I hear you breathe, I'm not alone in the darkness
> 
> Why do you fear to long for my love, please be strong.  
> If your heart can hear a song, you can't go wrong...  
> So repose your trust in me, save this love, live and see  
> If the life beyond this dream is what you seek...
> 
> Fill your deepest wishes,  
> Come take my poison kisses  
> Life is too short, this golden hour lasts for a lifetime...
> 
> No dream can heal a broken heart...  
> When we're apart...
> 
> ...On the sea of wishes  
> My dream that no one misses  
> Tears me apart, always, somehow  
> Goodbye love..."
> 
> -No Dream Can Heal A Broken Heart-  
> Sonata Arctica

”Stay away!”  
”Ben, please, just listen to me…”  
”Stay. The fuck. _Away_! You’re disgusting. _I’m_ disgusting.”  
”We’re not disgusting, don’t say that.”  
”Don’t move! I fucking warn you…”  
  
Against a loaded gun in your hands I stand no chance at this distance. Not now. A day and a half. It didn’t take more than that for me to allow myself to dream, and now you’re standing ten feet away, pointing a gun at your own head. I’m frozen on my spot, I know there’s no way I can reach you before you pull the trigger. Some gunpowder, a bullet and unsteady fingers are all it takes for your demons to take you from me forever.  
  
”Ben, I beg you… put the gun down. You don’t want to die.”  
”Don’t tell me what I want, Bones. You have no fucking idea what I want!”  
”Then tell me.”  
”You don’t understand! On your fucking knees. Now!”  
  
_Breathe, Billy. Breathe. Easy now. Don’t panic. It’s better that he’s pointing the gun at you, than himself. You’re taller than him, quicker and far, far stronger right now. If you try to tower over him, he’ll loose control and you don’t want that. And you’re alone now, all your friends are elsewhere and no one will come before daybreak. An hour. An eternity._  
  
So I’m on my knees, slowly and without taking my eyes off you. My heart, my life, my soul with a deadly weapon, now pointed at me. Sweat is breaking out all over my body, soaking the clothes I fell asleep still dressed in. Fell asleep next to you, exhausted after three of your nightmares, too tired even to take my boots off.  
  
I’ve not feared a loaded gun like this since I pointed one at Flint in the rowboat, and he knew long before me I wouldn’t shoot. He was never scared, but I was. And I finally realise this is the first time since you were taken, that you feel like you’re in control. Against that, since I can’t overpower you, there’s only one thing I can do. Yield and beg.  
  
”Please, please… Don’t do this…”  
”I hate you, Bones. You’ve destroyed me.”  
”I don’t hate you.”  
”Shut the fuck up! You tricked me. I could’ve get myself a woman if it wasn’t for you.”  
”You still can.”  
”Not while you’re here!”  
”Then I’ll leave. I wont come near you, look at you or even think of you again, Ben Gunn. Find yourself a woman if that’s what you wish. Get married, have sons and forget all about me. I’ll even do what I can to… to stop loving you. Just… put the gun down. _Please…_ ”  
  
A soft, squeaky sound breaks through the air and I feel something soft and warm brushing up against my thigh. _Ardour_. Devotion with fur and tiny paws. My stupid dreams incarnated and then I feel it. The gun close to my temple. Your broken voice.  
  
”Why did you seduce me?”  
”I… I didn’t seduce you. I fell in love… fell in love with you.”  
”This was never about love!”  
_”It was to me…”_  
  
My answer merely a whisper.  
  
”You’re nothing but a dog, Billy Bones. A bitch, trying to tell yourself you’re a man. But you’re just a beast. A lust driven, malicious beast and I despise you.”  
  
The sweat floading down my face is now mixed with tears. It’s your voice, but not your words. How many hours of torture did it take before they could steal your words and replace them with all this hate? To fill your blue, warm eyes with despise and madness.  
  
”He will come for you, Mr. Bones. Unless you repent and do better, the Devil will have you, and I can’t let you bring me down again.”  
”I’ll do better, Ben…”  
”Mr. Gunn! It’s _Mr. Gunn_ to you! Say it!”  
”I’ll do better, Mr. Gunn… I’ll repent.”  
”I don’t believe you.”  
”Then let me prove it. Just tell me how I can prove it to you and I’ll show you!”  
”Take off your clothes, Mr. Bones. All of them.”  
  
Don’t know how I manage it. My fingers, my hands, my whole body is a trembling, boneless mass of dripping flesh with shirt and trousers soaked and glued to my skin. Unbuttoning the shirt takes an eternity with my numb fingers and I’ve almost lost feeling in my arms when I finally pull it off. Then the boots go off, one at a time and slowly.  
  
The belts are harder. I’m shaking so much I fear you’ll get impatient and just shoot me, but you’re not moving. The leather fly goes off, so does the one coloured like the rainbow. I lost a belt, almost exactly like this one, in the storm and captivity and was happy to find new one. _You liked it too, my love…_  
  
”Your trousers.”  
  
It’s difficult to get them off in this position and I don’t dare to make any bigger movements. Can only get them half down my thighs but what does it matter? I’m already naked and it triggers memories I’ve almost managed to, not forget, but control.  
  
”All the way!”  
”I… I can’t get them off without moving… It’s the sweat, they’re stuck… Please, _please, stop this!_ I beg you!”  
”Shut up! Just _shut the fuck up!_ ”  
  
Your voice is reaching higher than I’ve ever heard and you press the gun harder at my temple. I close my eyes the moment before the world explodes.  
  
TBC


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "For the ones who stood me near  
> And you few who were me dear  
> I ask of thee to have no doubts and no fear..."
> 
> -Hammerheart-  
> Bathory

”You think we could’ve prevented this?”  
”How?”  
”Don’t know, I just…”  
”Doesn’t matter. Too fucking late for that now, isn’t it?”  
”Yeah… _Fuck!_ ”  
  
No man or woman had ever seen Charles Vane cry but Billy Bones and the captain had no intention to change that. He left the room and John Silver’s lack of answers, passed Flint and Max in the doorway and went with long, fast steps away from the small house.   
  
_Please, please, stop this! I beg you!_  
  
He’d been not sixty feet away from the house.   
  
_Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!  
  
_ His former lover. His former lovers husband. The panic, the desperate begging and the scream. The shot and the screams. Billy’s and Ben’s. And one more name added to the list of those who had Anne Bonny to thank for their lives. _Not sixty feet away._  
  
TBC


	29. Chapter 29

_Is this a good idea?_   
  
Only one person asked that question. Only one let the tongue slip and received an empty, hollow-eyed gaze in return. No one had any further questions. Or comments, for that matter. He took the rattling chains and close the door. Everything he’d asked for had been brought there already.  
  
He didn’t look directly at the already restrained man on the bed. Couldn’t. The hollow-eyed man kneeled beside the head end, controlled the restrained man’s breathing and cut the rope from the left arm. It was cold, the blood loss had been major, but not lethal. The hollow-eyed man slowly massaged the hand and fingers, returning the circulation before putting one of the leather covers over the bandages. The restrained man didn’t wake up and the hollow-eyed man took one of the shackles as quiet as possible, closed it around the arm and attached the other end to the thick bedpost.   
  
He repeated the procedure on the right arm. No blood there, but he put a bandage on anyway, to not let the leather irritate the skin. He locked the shackle and began to wrap long, thick pieces of velvet hard and snug around the chain, all the way to the bed post. Same thing with the other one before covering the figure with a satin sheet and a feather blanket. He lifted the head and tucked a pillow under it, before covering every hard surface behind the head with smaller cushions. Now the sleeping man could move a little when he woke up, but not enough to cause himself any harm.  
  
The hollow-eyed man didn’t need domestic comfort. Not really. He could lay on the bare ground if he had to and still have a decent sleep. But he wished to be close. Had to be. The restrained man didn’t take up the whole bed, there was enough room for the hollow-eyed man to lay down beside him, despite the velvet wrapped chains.   
  
Love did stange things to you, the hollow-eyed realised, and often you didn’t even know it _was_ love that had changed you. Love made you walk the extra mile, feet bleeding and breath half choked, through deserted lands only to be where he was. Because even the most glorious paradise would be a living hell without him by your side.  
  
The house was silent now. No sound of serious voices, loud discussions or horrified cries. The only sounds to be heard were the breaths from the sleeping and the hollow-eyed man, the birds singing their early morning choral, the smooth wind in the lemon tree outside the bed chamber and the soft purrs from two sleepy cats nestled together on a pile of clothes on the floor. Love truly made you do strange things. It messed up your thoughts, laid all over your mind like a thick mist on sea and gave you the most fucked up ideas. It made you forget old wounds, throwing yourself in situations you know would hurt you even more and then forget it all over again the moment you had the one that holds your heart safely in your arms again.  
  
Love could take grand forms. Make you start a war, burn down a nations navy, sacrifice people and treasures for the very memory of it. Love could also be the silent knowledge that a former lover who’s turned into a friend, will always have a special place in your heart. It could give you a neverending urge to call a man husband, to hear him call you husband over and over again, to hear the word that confirms your place in his heart.   
  
Love could make you aband every safe haven, burn every bridge and mock the rules of gods and men with a smile on your face. It could make you yield for madness, clinging on the hope you could still rise from the ashes together and be free.   
  
Love could be a bullet in your arm and bonds of velvet, to beg for your life and feel the sent of cinnamon. A basket with kittens and a heart crying in the dark of the night or the first rays of morning sun.  
  
TBC


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He who loves you will make you weep."   
> \- Argentinian proverb -

If I didn’t have the memory of your pistol against your own and then my head running before my eyes, and the sound of the bullet piercing your arm ringing in my ears, in that moment not knowing in wich angle the worlds is shuttered to pieces, this would tear me apart. It is for your own safety as well as mine, but in your mind my intentions make as little sense as it possibly can. You call me names, try to spit on me and do everyting you can to aggravate and ruin any care and comfort provided. I know I can ask for someone to take my place for a while so I could get some rest, but I don’t want to. If you’re gonna leave me, or try to kill me, I want you to do it with a clear head. Or at least as clear as possible. I can’t think of any other way to draw you out from the mist but make you get used to me again. To touches of care and love.  
  
I have lost sense of time. The shifting between light and the darkness surprises me. I’ve always been a decent sleeper, if you don’t count the time I was press ganged and the first two months after the rescue. Or the time after Hume. Under normal circumstances I can fall asleep very easy if I want to, but never loose the time. The only time existing to me now, is the amount it will take to bring you back to me. I don’t wake up from the morning sun anymore, only from your screams or my own dreams. And I’m alone with you now. Have to be. Can’t have more hands on you, more faces to confuse you.  
  
I find baskets with fresh food on our doorstep every morning. I leave our bedlinen and clothes in a sack for someone in town to wash, and get them back clean and dry. When I’m not tending to your needs I read. Flint has borrowed me some books and I’m very grateful for that. The kittens keep me company, curled up against me and for some strange reason that’s a better comfort than people, even Vane, now. These little fellows have no idea what’s going on. They only care for their needs: eat, sleap and cuddle.   
  
When you have a calm moment I bring them to you. By calm I mean the short state of exhaustion you go through between a fit and sleep. Small gaps when you’re too tired to scream, fight or go tense. That’s when I come near. When I try to make you get used to me again. I comb and wash your hair, help you shave and tend to the wounds, empty the chamber pot and change your clothes. You don’t say anything, but I do. I tell you about ordinary things like gossip from the inn, how the waves are and if something has happened to someone from our old crew. And in the meantime I let the kittens climb on you, nuzzle against you and purr.  
  
I’ve never been domestic, but now the small tasks make me calm. Sweeping and scrubbing floors, chopping wood, cooking dinner and repairing clothes. Ember is following me, trying to bite my heels and Ardour is mostly chasing his own tail. We need to have some living soul in this house who doesn’t know about this darkness. I need to see eyes that aren’t filled with disgust when I meet them.  
  
I once saw my dad take care of mom when she had a miscarriage. Think I was five or six. I remember being forced to stay with the neighbors while the midwife was with mom and that I got panicked when I heard her screaming. I remember running back to our house, dad stopping me before I got to the chamber. He slapped my face before he saw I was crying. He was scared too, didn’t want me to see, and hid my face to his chest. _Sorry for slapping you, William, but you can’t run to your mother now. You don’t want to scare your little sister by running in and cry when she arrives, do you? Mom will be fine, there’s nothing to worry about…_

I remember the blooded cloths swept around something that should’ve been my little sister three months later. How my dad told me to stay in the house, and I saw him bury the tiny thing in our backyard, under the apple tree. How he, when he put away the shovel, just leaned his forehead against the tree for several minutes, shoulders moving in long, deep breaths.  
  
I remember going after him but stopping halfways, scared and confused from seeing my dad like that. I started cry again and he left the shovel, wiped the tears from his face and took me in his arms. _Dad, where’s my little sister?_ How he shivered and pressed my tiny body hard to his chest. _God wanted her back, William. Mommy is very, very tired so you must be a big boy now, and not run or scream in the house. Could you do that for her? And for me?_  
  
I remember asking too many questions my dad refused to answer, how he asked me to be quiet to not disturb mom. I watched him from the doorgap to the chamber where mom laid. There was blood on the sheets and the floor. Mom was very pale and seemed to be asleep.  
  
I remember neighbours and friends coming over with food dad didn’t eat and words he didn’t hear. He was distant, even to me. But he didn’t shut me out entirely. He let me watch him help her sometimes. When he washed her face, combed her hair or just hold her hand. One evening when I couldn’t sleep, I asked if I could sleep in his and moms bed. I felt lonely and scared and I guess dad realised that because he took me on his lap, draped a blanket around me and said I could sleep in his arms. _One day, son, you’ll have a wife too and if she’s ill, you’ll not leave her side. Even if you can do nothing but keep her company._ My sleepy answer, as I lay safe and tucked in his arms: _But she’s sleeping, daddy. How can she know you’re here?_   
  
_Because, William, that’s what a good husband does to his wife when she’s ill. Or a good wife to her husband when he’s ill. You keep company and take care._ And a five or six year old Billy’s stupid question: _But what if she doesn’t want company, dad?_  
  
I remember how he hugged me harder and gave me one of his rare kisses on my head. _When people are ill, they don’t always know what they want or what’s best for them. All you can do is take good care of them and pray that God will let them stay with you. Mom will be fine if she can rest. Will you help me to get her some rest by being an extra good boy?_  
  
I remember waking up very early the next morning from an unfamiliar sound from the kitchen. I saw my strong, tall dad by the table, head buried in his big hands crying like a child. I was, of course, too young to understand. I didn’t know how close I’d been to become motherless that day, how close it was that my dad had to dig two graves. I only remember not understanding why dad was crying, since mom was going to get well again. I remember thinking that I didn’t want to get married if it could make you so sad and that God was mean and unfair who took my sister.   
  
If I didn’t have the memory of my dad taking care of mom that time, no matter how angry and difficult she was, I’m not sure I could do this. I’m not my dad, far from it, but I’d like to believe his way is the right one. My mom got better and even if I’m not stupid enough to compare your pain to hers, I have to believe we can face the memoeries. Yours and mine, as a man and his husband should always face them: together. __  
  
TBC


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”I’m here, darling. No one can hurt you now, I’ll protect you.”  
> ”I hate you.”  
> ”And I love you.”

”Billy… Billy? Billy! _Billy!?_ ”  
”Hey, hey… I’m here, Ben! I’m here… It’s alright, sweetheart. You’re having a nightmare, that’s all. Come here.”  
  
There was a note in the food basket this morning. One single word. _Friday,_ written by Idelle’s hand. An answer to the note I left in the empty basket for the one bringing us food. I can’t keep count of the days, but this means I’ve been alone here with you for five days. Five days and six nights that seems like one single, everlasting nightmare. Six nights of trying to calm you, my restrained love, or at least getting you used to me again.  
  
I’m laying beside you now. The first fragile moments after a nightmare is my chance to reach you. The short time between your first steps from dream to reality before the shame and disgust are fully awake and push me away. Your hair is pasted on teary, sweaty cheeks, your lips are dry and I take a cool, wet cloth to your face while talking softly to you.  
  
”I’m here, darling. No one can hurt you now, I’ll protect you.”  
”I hate you.”  
  
Your first words to me, nightmares uncounted, in days. Shouldn’t be surprised by how much they hurt. I want to say ”no you don’t”, but I can’t. I can’t mess more with your head, with your feelings for the sake of my own comfort. Those assholes have already convinced you I’m evil and you don’t need more voices in your head. You have to find your own voice again, and you can’t do that if I tell you what to think and feel. So I can only answer with the absolute truth.  
  
”And I love you.”  
  
I unlock one of the chains and keep a firm, but careful grip on your wrist as I take your soaked shirt off, one arm at a time. You’re too exhausted from the nightmare to hit me or even try to get loose. For the first time, you don’t fight back when I take care of you while you’re awake. I don’t know if it’s a good sign, maybe you hate my touch just as much as before, only too tired to express it.  
  
I can tell you like the cool, wet cloth on your skin, thou. When I get to your back, you actually lean forward to give me better access. That gesture alone is enough to cause tears in my eyes. Tears I, thank God, can force back now. It’s really not the right moment for that. Instead I keep myself calm, my voice steady.

”Would you like to sit outside today?”  
”Outside?”  
  
You sound as if you forgot there is an outside.  
  
”It’s a fine morning. Not too hot. Imagine you’d like some fresh air.”  
”It’s you who’ve put me in chains.”  
”You would’ve done the same for me.”  
”I tried to kill you.”  
”But you failed.”  
”You don’t deserve to live.”  
”Of course not, I’m a pirate. But I intend for both of us to live anyway. Lift your arm.”  
  
You don’t, and I just shrug.  
  
”If you don’t lift your arm, I’ll just do it and you get to stretch your muscles even less, you know. In any case, I’ll wash the sweat from you and get you a clean shirt.”  
  
The arm comes up and I gently wash your armpit, the side of your back and stomach and water is sipping down. I’ll change the bedlinen later. My touch can’t show even the slightest sign of deeper emotions. It’s all brotherly and only the lightness reveal care of any sort. When I’m done with your upper body and arms, I wash your face with it’s chapped lips and dark markings under the eyes. You’re blear-eyed but, if I’m not deceiving myself, a little bit more present today.  
  
Before dressing you in a clean shirt, I comb your hair. It’s not been cut all over the head, only chopped just above your ear lobes and Max has tried to even it as much as possible, but it still makes me so sad to see the attempt to destroy your beauty. I love your hair. It reminds me of the day you took a bath on the ship back to Nassau. I still don’t understand how I could pursuade Flint to let you use his cabin, but I fucking did. The empty barrel I filled with bucket after bucket with fresh water from the island – I brought extra rations only for that purpose – and when you came out you actually looked like a different man. Your hair layed in wet, almost curly tangles around your tired face and you seemed younger. Or if it was the rags, dirt and illtreated skin that made you look older before the bath. I don’t know, but I know I had a hard time not to look too much.  
  
I take the sheet from upper half of the bed, pull it to your sitting position and add a new one before I lay you down again. Then I have to do the thing I know you hate more than anything, but you’re so sweaty I simply can’t forego it. If I don’t help you with this, it’ll sooner or later itch like hell and cause you more discomfort. When I get to your trousers, you make a sound and look straight at me with eyes full of disgust and pain.  
  
”I have to, Ben. I don’t want to, but I know it’s fucking uncomfortable with all the sweat for you and if I don’t do it, you could get rashes. I’ll do it quickly and get you clean trousers. We’ve both helped brothers with this and it’s just about getting clean. I know you know that.”  
  
You don’t answer me now, just close your eyes and turn your head away. I choose to take it as a signal of acceptance. I undress, wash and get you a new pair of trousers as quick as possible. Then I take the dirty sheet off and pull the clean one all the way down. I work in silence, yours and mine, and when I’m done you’re all clean and – I’m your husband, for fucks sake, I’m not entirely blind – much more comfortable.  
  
In the measure of muscle work, this less than an hour long task has been one of the easiest I’ve done, but I’m completely exhausted. You finally look at me with your oh so blue eyes.  
  
”Could you help me outside?”  
  
TBC


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I would slay all who would lay attempt to wrest you from my arms."  
> \- Agron (Spartacus) -

”That night when you didn’t came home… I panicked. Ran like a looney from one place to another. People must’ve thought I was crazy, just running around Nassau like that. Didn’t eat or sleep, I just ran. So, when I finally passed out, Flint and Silver restrained me.”  
”Why?”  
”Thought I’d harm myself.”  
”But they released you eventually?”  
”No, Vane did.”  
”Vane?”  
”The Ranger came back the day after you were taken and Silver told Vane about what happened. He didn’t leave my side until I could see you. Idelle wouldn’t let me first. Said I’d be too upset.”  
”She told you that?”  
”No, Vane did, thank God. If Idelle had, I most certainly would’ve smashed her head. Not quite how you want to thank the person who just saved your heart.”  
  
The morning sun is warm. Soon it will be too hot outside for one of the men. He will need the cool rest behind walls of stone if not to increase the pain. But for now he can enjoy it, in the grass on the backyard. Still in chains, still in the strong arms of the man who refuses to admit the sin. Too tired from pain and panic to deny himself the rest. Too relieved for not being naked in the darkness, to not listen to the man. To not answering.  
  
”I’m not yours, Billy. You can’t force me.”  
”I never would and you know that. I’d never try to deceive myself by forcing you to tell me words I want to hear, just for my own comfort. I’m a pirate, a thief, a murderer and a sodomist, I freely admit that. I’ve even lied to my crew to protect Flint when I really had no better reason than saving his life. But I’ve never tried to decieve another man’s heart, Ben. I’ve never taken a man to bed against his will, and never allowed myself to pretend that I have a man’s love, when I don’t. You’re mine only if you choose to be.”  
”But you’re keeping me in chains.”  
”You were close to kill me. Or yourself, or both of us. I value my life, Ben, such as it is, and I value yours more than my own. I couldn’t let you do that to any of us, so I did what I thought would be the least bad of two evil things. Don’t you for a second believe it gives me any pleasure.”  
”Sooner or later, you have to release me. Or kill me.”  
”I will release you, when _she_ does. If you leave me, it must be your own choice, not hers.”  
”I’m free to leave if I wish to, as long as my mind is clear, is that what you say?”  
”Yes.”  
”And you wont touch me for pleasure while you keep me here?”  
”No. I’ll only do what is necessairy for you to get your strength back and I’ll intervene if you try to do yourself or anyone else harm, just as I would do for a brother, but nothing more. And you wont be able to trick me to believe that you feel better or stronger than you really do. I looked after you for almost eight months before you shared my bed, Ben. I know when you’re not alright and I damn well wont let you get yourself killed in a tavern fight or drink yourself to death just because you don’t want to share my bed anymore.”  
”And when I’m alright and want to leave you, what will you do?”  
”Me? If that day comes, when you’re clearheaded and choose not to share bed or home with me, I’ll go on the account again.”  
”With Flint? But he’s…”  
”Not with Flint. Charles.”  
”Of course. Your former lover…”  
  
The slight bitterness is barely audible.  
  
”Yes, my _former_ lover. With every emphasis on ’former’. Charles and I fucked occasionally for a long time and non of us miss it, I can assure you that. He sent the whole fucking Ranger crew out to search for you, and made Rackham and Bonny sending the men on the Colonial Dawn as well. He loves me as a friend and wouldn’t leave my side when I was sick of worry for you. If I’m to loose my husband, but can rest assure he’ll get a better life than I can give him, that he wont try to drink himself to an early grave or throw himself into fights and battles to end a suffering he wont let me help him with, I’ll be Charles bosun, as he once asked me to.”  
”And what about Flint? And Silver? What about our brothers? What would they think have gone into you? DeGroot will drop dead…”  
”What about the loyal Billy Bones... He was stupid enough to fall in love. Believe me, even DeGroot would understand that. I’m more concerned with these two… Cats don’t speak English so it’ll be hard to explain.”  
”They’ll miss you.”  
  
_I’ll miss you._  
  
”I’ll miss them too.”  
  
_And I you. Always._  
  
”Don’t feel like talking anymore, Billy.”  
”We don’t have to. Are you tired?”  
”Yeah…”  
”Want to go inside?”  
”There are still some hours before midday sun. I can sleep here, if you don’t mind.”  
”Why would I mind?”  
  
_If it wouldn’t cause you any harm, I’d never let you leave my arms._  
  
TBC


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Picturing the past before him,  
> in a bed, alone, with clothes on...  
> With his eyes, he sees more love and lust  
> more tears, far too much to handle...  
> Burning sensation inside, you know how that hurts?"
> 
> -Picturing The Past-  
> Sonata Arctica

It feels wrong, but I can’t help it. Havn’t had you in weeks now and maybe I’ll never have you again. Not that I don’t understand why and I’d rather cut my dick off than blaming you for it, but I miss you so much it feels like I’ve been split in two. That I’m no longer one and whole. I yearn for you with all my being. When I lay naked in the dark, my body, mind and soul are begging to be touched, but next to me is no one. My own hands and memories are all that I have now, and since we sleep in separate places, they don’t bother you.  
  
My heart is working against me, by putting pictures from the past before my eyes, the moment I lay down to rest. I can see you returning from a midday swim, interrupting my rest in the shadow by letting your wet hair irritate my face as you straddle me. I can see your mischievous smile, the mesmerizing glitter in your eyes and hear the all but innocent tone in your voice: _Hello, beautiful… You shouldn’t lay shirtless in the open like this, all defensless. Who knows what kind of indecent men that could attack you?_

I can feel you locking me down with your thighs, grabbing my wrists in one hand and rubbing your groin hard against my cock. Your kisses taste like the sea, your hair smell from spices and your fingers make me moan as they pinch my nipples. I’m so easy for you, I even forget my shyness for being seen by anyone that might pass our garden. I love the wait, to not know exactly how you – or I – want it, since whatever way we take will give us both pleasure in the end. I love to taste you, to make you shiver and come from my tongue alone. I love it when you’re so deep inside me I loose all sense of civil manners and no longer care if some distant neighbour or someone passing our home can hear me scream and curse and beg for more.  
  
I’m picturing you inside me, pretending you’re still holding my hands locked, not letting me touch myself until you say so and how willingly I obey, even if we both know I could easily get loose. I let myself dwell in memories of how you twist and turn our bodies, holding me on edge and demanding me to let go of control. The playfulness in your words, how well you know what I need to hear, that I need to give myself up if I’m to be strong. That I could never be satisfied if I’m to be locked up in one role with you.  
  
It feels wrong because of what’s happened, but my mind, body and soul no longer cares. My hand is your body, the bend of my arm your mouth I moan into when the release makes my body twitch and tremble. Yes, I could leave you alone like a true gentleman, I could go with Charles and raid, drink and fuck the memories away. I could do that, but when death catches up with me, I’d welcome him as my savior and ask what took him so long.  
  
TBC


	34. Chapter 34

”Please, don’t say anything, I have a mirror.”  
  
He knows how he looks and the sight didn’t actually come as a surprise. Nor does Vanes frowning. The younger man leans against one of the front porch posts. The older man puts a basket beside him.  
  
”From Max.”  
”Thank you.”  
”Is he…?”  
”Sleeping. Since an hour or so.”  
  
He’s so tired. The last days and nights have been no less than a living nightmare. The short moment of calm and closeness that morning in the sunlight feels like a dream. The panic, the fear and most of all the hate has brought him to his knees. So much despise in every word, gaze and movement. Kicks, punches, bites, scratches and spit.  
  
”Had to pour him liquor in the end. Didn’t want to, but I was out of options.”  
”Opium?”  
”Refused to inhale. Rum was easier.”  
”When was the last time you left the house?”  
”A week and a half, at least. Not sure.”  
”Why wont you let us help?”  
”You are.”  
”Not with food, you idiot.”  
”He’s my husband.”  
”That doesn’t mean you don’t need to sleep.”  
”I can’t let anyone see him like this, Charles… It’s just so…”  
”Humiliating? For fucks sake, Billy… You’re gonna drop to the ground any day if you keep going on like this and who will thank you for that?”  
”He hates me, Charles.”  
”The hell he does! Dammit, Billy, you have to rest.”  
”He was improving… I thought… Fuck!”  
  
So sick of worrying. Sick of crying when he sees Vane.  
  
”He let me hold him, Charles… T’was just for a little while but I couldn’t help but hoping it would be… I’m so fucking stupid!”  
  
Vane doesn’t answer, just lets him rage, cry and babble incoherently in his arms. Billy feels like his head is cracking, letting out all the words,thoughts and feelings locked inside him for days. He’s barely aware of what he’s actually saying, it all comes out just as messy and disoriented as the past days and nights have been. And Vane stands still like a rock, unmovable by the storm, holding him tight and close. It takes several long minutes before the worst outburst is fading. When Billy’s breathing is down to normal, Vane looks at him.  
  
”Is he restrained?”  
”Yes.”  
”You have pen and papers in the house?”  
”For what?”  
”Write down instructions.”  
”Instructions?”  
”For Flint and Silver. No, don’t interrupt me yet, darling, hear me out. I understand you don’t want anyone to see Ben in the state he’s in right now. He’s your husband and there are things only you should help him with. But you’ve been alone with him for over a week now and what would happen if you wake up sick one day when you’re alone with him and he’s getting loose?”  
”I’m not leaving him with anyone else, Charles.”  
”Yes, you are. You’re leaving him with the two people most used to deal with madness. Hell, I never thought I’d say this, but their ability to manipulate people might come well in hand right now.”  
”No one is fucking with Ben’s mind again! You hear that!”  
”Not even if they can convince him not to kill himself?”  
”He’ll think I’ve abandoned him.”  
”Perhaps, but when he’s mind’s clear again, he’ll understand.”  
”What if they hurt him? They don’t know him like I do.”  
”That’s why you’re going to write instructions. You know that man better than anyone else and you know how to explain that to Flint and Silver. They’re manipulative assholes, but they’d never treat Ben with anything but greatest care. And if there are two men guarding Ben, two men who can keep watch and take care of him, it can’t be any less safe than it is now. You’re exhausted and trust me, the last Ben need is a husband who’s delirious from lack of sleep.”  
”And where am I to go? The inn? Just what I need… people seeing me in this state.”  
”Not the inn. My tent. I’ve just came back from sea and we’re not leaving again for some time.”  
”What about your men? And the whores? Frankly I’m not in the mood for anyone throwing looks at me because I’m in your tent again. People talk.”  
”Who said I have to put it up in the usual place? Don’t be deliberately difficult now, Billy. We could stay close to your house. Don’t you have some fucking bay you go to swim?”  
”We have.”  
”Close to the house? With enough place for a tent?”  
”Yeah.”  
”Good. I’ll go to get the manipulative assholes while you write down whatever they need to know. I’ll be back soon, darling.”  
  
Vane carefully lifts him from his lap and take to his feet. Billy gives a anxious look.  
  
”But what if…”  
”No ’what if’s’, Billy. Just trust me on this one.”  
  
TBC


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flint and Silver, the protective saints of psycho husbands <3

”Is he still sleeping?”  
”Yes, and calmly I might add.”  
”Thank God.”  
  
James sighed with relief when John closed the door halfways. The two feared pirates were tired from the watch, but the last hours it had been some progress. Not as many fits and religious tantrums, and less attempts to bite. John sat down by the fire.  
  
”Poor man… poor Billy. Guess it’s a good thing Vane took him to the inn.”  
”Do you think they’re fucking?”  
”What?”  
”Billy and Vane.”  
”What the fuck is wrong with you, James? _Jesus..._ ”  
”They’re old lovers, you know.”  
”That’s the most stupid thing I’ve heard since supper and believe me, I’ve heard some fucking stupid things these last hours, dear husband.”  
  
James laughed. God knew it wasn’t often his husband was oblivious of what was going on between people, but when he was, he looked as stunned, skeptical and awkward as a slightly too young boy seeing a naked woman for the first time. James couldn’t help but keep laughing.  
  
”Seriously, John? Exactly how did this escape your notice? How?!”  
”Oh, I’m so sorry I’m not one to ask Billy who he’s been fucking over the years, since he and I have been _such_ close friends. Yes, I know they fucked, but that was like one or two times. Doesn’t mean they were actual lovers.”  
”I see.”  
  
To Johns irriation, James looked awfully pleased with himself.  
  
”What are you smiling at?”  
”You’re pissed you didn’t discovered it by yourself.”  
”You don’t have to look so damn smug, my dear. And so what if they were or were not lovers? What’s that got to with anything? Billy cares for no one but Ben and I seriously doubt he’s in the mood for fucking anyone right now. And for the record, I remember Vane saying something about you not knowing Billy very well either.”  
”Billy’s always kept to himself. I used to think it was because he didn’t have much secrets to begin with, but I guess I was wrong. Have to admit I never really gave any thought to how he acted around Ben in the maroon camp.”  
”He talked a lot to him, James. You noticed that, didn’t you?”  
  
John sounded almost dreamy – with a very slight sting of envy. It didn’t, how ever, escape James notice.  
  
”I did, but since we were in that very dangerous situation, I didn’t think about it very much. Billy’s always been protective. I’ve known him since he was little more than a kid, John. To care for others wellbeing was, I guess, his way of showing gratitude for being saved. Christ, he was so skinny some of the men used to joke about raising him instead of old Roger.”  
”Billy? Skinny?”  
”How do you think he got the name Bones?”  
”Thought it was some kind of joke.”  
”He was press ganged when was about thirteen or fourteen and really ill treated. They snatched him on the street and hold him as a slave on a ship for three years. When we boarded that ship, we freed him. We found him tied up in a small locker in the captains cabin. Starved, beaten and worse…”  
”Christ…”  
  
John had a horrified expression in his face and James nodded.  
  
”Yeah, there was no Christ saving him that day. It took a hell of a time before he let anyone near him, but for some reason the crew liked him.”  
”What about you? You liked him?”  
  
James frowned.  
  
”He was afraid of me, so I can’t say I got to know him very well back then. But on the other hand, even Gates never did. Billy is smart, but he’s never been a plotter and he’d always valued his freedom far more than the thought of treasures. He never shared any deeper thoughts with anyone on the crew.”  
”Maybe it’s not that strange he had a relationship with Vane after all. Vane is a savage who thinks too highly of himself, but I can imagine he’s easier to handle for a man like Billy. More straight forward.”  
”Then what about Ben? He doesn’t remind very much about Vane, that’s for sure. I guess it’s about protection.”  
  
John laughed.  
  
” _Now_ who’s not paying attention… Sure, non of us were there when they plotted to get Vane free, make me a villain and take you down a step, but surely you must’ve seen the way they looked at each other? I freely admit I never thought about how deep it was, but it was fucking obvious to everyone that _something_ went on between them. Ben was like Billy’s shadow for months. Hardly ever left his side. I teased Billy about it once, asked him if they’d entered a matelotage in secret and he went fucking furious. ”  
”You usually have that effect on him.”  
”I seriously doubt it would’ve mattered who’d asked him. It was so obvious I actually felt a little bit ashamed for not take more notice.”  
”Noticed what?”  
”Jesus, James! What are you, a blind looney with no memory? That Billy was in love, of course! Think about it. The one and only person who you could always find by his side after the maroon camp, was Ben. Billy recut clothes, gave him parts of his rations and read books to him. Christ, he even poured the man a fucking bath! And the looks Ben gave him… _God_ , they almost made DeGroot blush.”  
”I’m positively sure Mr. DeGroot is completely unable to blush.”  
”The point is, Ben doesn’t remind about Vane, but they’re both easy to handle. At least compared to us. Half the time, Billy looks like he wants to kill one or both of us, and half the time he looks like he wants to kill the crew for following us. Ben is not a follower, not a schemer or a brute. He’s a lettered observer and, unlike me, a _very_ good cook.”  
”And if he manage to kill himself in one of his fits, Billy will probably follow him. So I suggest you I and try to keep up.”  
  
TBC


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kind of love the close, protective friend side of Vane. A rock in the storm - and no one will know this side but Billy.

”For a man claiming not to need domesticity, you’re fussing over me worse than a overprotective mother, Charles.”  
” _I_ don’t need it. You do, so I provide it. And if you call me mother again I’ll knock your teeth out, darling. You feel better now?”  
”Actually I think I’ve lost sensation in my legs…”  
”Good.”  
  
Fucking love his hands. Some things never change and whatever it was that is no longer between us, Charles’ hands are just as fucking magical as ever. Can’t remember last time I had a massage like this. My body is singing, blood pumping in exactly every possible limb including one who hasn’t been in use for far too long.  
  
Is it the tension or just the fact that I haven’t slept with Ben for so long? Going without sex for a while has never been an issue. Not like it seems to be for most men. I prefer to get something I really want, to a couple of scattered substitutions that will leave me partly unsatisfied. I want hands that know me, that want to know me and only me. Love makes you greedy, leaves you longing for more and Vane’s chaste travel over my back and shoulders push on all but chaste buttons in me now.  
  
The pressure, the relaxation, the friction from the ground… All I can see before me is the picture of Ben leaning back against my chest, head on my shoulder, mouth panting in my ear: _Harder, Billy… God, you feels so good, so fucking good… Ah, yeah, that’s it… don’t stop, don’t stop!_ He’s so hot and tight around me, pushing back to meet every thrust, taking all I can give. The warmth from his hair and skin. His hands, strong as fucking iron, grasping my fingers. _I hate my mind_.  
  
”Charles…”  
”Yeah?”  
”Could you just… leave me alone in here for a while?”  
”Of course.”  
  
He’s not blind or stupid, and knows more than well why I react like this. He knows it’s not him I’m longing for, knows exactly why I’m so hard it almost hurt. I’ve been without my husband for too long and the separation is taking it’s toll on me. When I’m alone, I use some of the oil Charles brought for my back and slick my left fingers and right palm, fucking and stroking myself quickly over the edge with a groan I don’t bother to hold back. I lay down, catching my breath and after some minutes, I feel Charles hands on my back again. No comment, no unnecessairy words on the matter. He just moves on from the place where he left, working through my muscles inch by inch until I’m about as relaxed as I can be in this state. He finish it all by stretching my neck in way that makes me a little dizzy and slaps me on my ass.  
  
”Let’s go for a swim. You still reek. And you need to shave.”  
”Maybe I should grow a beard.”  
”Trust me, you shouldn’t. You’d look fucking ridiculous.”  
”That’s what Ben said.”  
”When he’s in his right mind again, I look forward to get to know him better. Apparently he has a good taste in men.”  
” _If_ he ever…”  
”Stop that! It’s _when_ and nothing else, Billy.”  
  
His voice is hard, almost sharp. I get on my feet, facing him. Charles feral gaze has always pushed very hard on the part of me that needs to let go of control. A long time ago, that gaze alone could crush any tension in my body and mind, make me yield so easy and forget every burden, every responsibility and the loneliness that sometimes came crashing down on me. Now it stops my mind from running wild. He nods at the water.  
  
”Let’s go, stupid.”  
  
Getting rid of the oil, just freshing up a bit feels even better than a hot bath. Clothes that doesn’t reek from sweat and a shave aint bad either. Charles nods in approval when we’re back at the tent.  
  
”Progress. Now, get something to eat before you crash.”  
”I’m not that hungry.”  
”Yeah, right…”  
  
He throws me a piece of cold steak, some bread and cheese. I’m starving, actually. We eat in silence and when I’m done, he hands me a bottle of something stronger than the rum I usually drink. He sees my hesistance and smiles.  
  
”It’s brandy, not poison.”  
  
It might as well have been. The worry, the lack of sleep and the massage only needs a couple of gulps before I’m practically on the edge of sleep, and I crash like a wave against the rock in Charles arms, as it seems like I’ve done for too many nights now. I don’t hear any sounds from panic, nightmares and angst-ridden memories now. I only hear the waves from the bay and the soft hum from my former lover as he lulls me to sleep.  
  
TBC


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idelle - the voice of reason that must never be silenced <3

”Where’s Billy?”  
”I don’t know exactly. He needed to rest.”  
”He didn’t say where he went?”  
”Vane’s taking care of him. That’s all I know.”  
”Vane?”  
”He’s the only one Billy is letting near. How are you feeling today?”  
”Alright, I guess… You really don’t know where he is?”  
  
James shakes his head, with a regretful expression on his face.  
  
”I’m sorry, Ben, but I have no idea. They left two days ago.”  
  
The man in the bed looks like he’s received news of Billy’s death.  
  
”So he’s left me… For _Vane_ …”  
”What are you talking about, Ben?”  
”Billy and Vane! They’ve left, _he’s_ left me!”  
”Christ, Ben! That’s not how it is at all.”  
”Then how is it? And why the fuck am I _tied_?!”  
  
If talking to a raging Billy was hard, trying to explain things to a restrained Ben is fucking impossible, as James quickly discovers. The door opens and both John and Idelle enters, apparently scared by the screams. Idelle looks at James.  
  
”What’s happening?”  
”Billy’s left me and _you_ – you’ve chained me here!”  
”Ben, no, that’s not what…”  
”You did this so he could leave with Vane!”  
  
Idelle just sighs.  
  
”Flint, what did you tell him?”  
”I was _trying_ to tell him that Vane is taking care of Billy so the poor man could get some rest, but our patient here doesn’t seem to understand.”  
”I understand perfectly well, Flint! Billy left me!”  
”No, you’re not list…”  
”SHUT THE FUCK UP! BOTH OF YOU!”  
  
When Idelle is barking, you fucking listen. The tired spy/rescuer/whore/fucking boss of this place is piercing her green, bloodshot eyes in the two men and they go silent as if their tongues were chopped off. Idelle strokes back her hair.  
  
”Now, if you could listen instead of fucking screaming things will go much quicker. No, Billy hasn’t left you for Vane or anyone else, Ben. Your man has kept watch over you until he was half-dead and we had to force him to get some sleep. So no, he’s not here in the house and we don’t know exactly where he is. _Don’t_ interrupt me!”  
  
Ben shuts his already half open mouth in an instance and Idelle receives an impressed glance from Flint she doesn’t see as she continues.  
  
”Someone had to go with Billy since he was fucking exhausted, so Vane agreed to help him get some peace and quiet and I’ll tell you, Ben, it wasn’t easy to persuade that darling man of yours that he needed to rest. Your sweetheart has anything but left you, Ben Gunn, is that clear?”  
  
The stunned man in the bed nods and Idelle gives half a smile.  
  
”Fucking excellent. And about you being restrained, there is a perfectly good reason for that if you care to listen and answer some questions. Could you do that?”  
  
Another nod. Idelle grabs a chair and sits down by the bed. She turns shortly at Flint.  
  
”I can take it from here, Flint. Close the door behind you and look to the cats. And you,” she turns back to Ben again, ”please don’t scream at me. It’s too fucking early for that.”  
  
Once Flint has disappeared – quick as a pirates share of a prize the first day on shore – Idelle simply looks Ben in the eyes and ask:  
  
”Just try to answer my questions. Do you know where you are?”  
”At home.”  
”Correct. And what is your name?”  
”What…?”  
”Please, darling, just answer…”  
”Ben Gunn.”  
”And do you remember my name?”  
”Idelle. You work at the inn.”  
”That’s right. Now, this is a little more difficult question. Do you remember when you last spoke to Billy? And calm down, he’s fine. Nothing’s happened to him and he’s definately not left you for anything or anyone. Just answer the question.”  
  
The blonde man shakes his head.  
  
”Don’t know.”  
”What’s the last thing you remember, Ben?”  
  
Blue, confused eyes. _Christ almighty, the poor man really doesn’t know…_  
  
”Billy was here. He took care of me. And then… I’m not sure, it’s all blurry.”  
”It’s alright. You had some sort of attack.”  
”Attack?”  
”You don’t remember at all?”  
”Cats… I remember the cats. I had an attack?”  
”You accused Billy for seducing you, and then you threatened to shoot him.”  
”No, no… No, that can’t be… Why would I…? You’re lying to me!”  
”I’m not. You put a gun to his head.”  
”No…”  
  
It’s merely a whisper. The blonde man is grey as ash and eyes are wide in shock. Idelle takes his hand.  
  
”You didn’t shoot him, thou. Anne disarmed you by putting a bullet in your arm and then Billy restrained you to this bed. He was so scared you’d try to kill yourself or hurt anyone and he didn’t know what else to do. He sat by your side for a week and a half, alone, and took care of you. We left him food by the door, but he refused to let us help him look after you. Said he didn’t want anyone to see you in the state you were.”  
  
A long silence, as if Ben’s truly tries to understand. He swallows, still looking completely confused.  
  
”Where is he now?”  
”I’m not sure exactly where he is, but I think he’s close to the sea. He hadn’t slept for two nights and was completely exhausted from searching for you and then take care of you.”  
”Searching?”  
  
_Oh, dear Lord…_ This is not a question Idelle feel she’s fit to answer, but there’s no one else to do it.  
  
”You were abducted, by an man and a women. I happened when you were on your way back home, after delivering some of your cinnamon buns to the girls. Do you remember that?”  
”Cinnamon buns? Sounds likely, at least…”  
”We talked a little and then you left. I assumed you were going back home, but later that evening Billy came by and asked if we’d seen you. We sent out people to look for you and Billy didn’t sleep for a day and a half. No one knew where you were. Do you remember anything?”  
  
The man just shakes his head again.  
  
”Sorry, I don’t. Please, can I see Billy?”  
”I’ll send for him, dear. You were right about the kittens, by the way. Billy got them for you.”  
”Why?”  
”He thought they might do you good, bless his sweet heart. You didn’t allow him to touch you, so he thought it fit to give you something to cuddle with, that darling man of yours.”  
”Kittens…? He really got me _kittens_?”  
”You’re damn right he did, Ben Gunn.”  
”Huh… Thought I imagined that.”  
  
Idelle smiles. She feels less tired already.  
  
”Would you like to have something to eat?”  
”Some tea would be nice. Could you cut me loose and bring me the kittens?”  
”I can give you the kittens, but I don’t dare to cut you loose alone, Ben. I’m sorry. I know you don’t remember what happened, but it was very sudden and I don’t dare to untie you yet. Please, don’t be mad at me.”  
  
Oblivious, blue eyes. A thoughtful nod.  
  
”If you think it’s for the best.”  
  
TBC


	38. Chapter 38

”Shouldn’t carry them around.”  
”Why not?”  
”Really, Charles? You have to ask?”  
”You’ve carried more bracelets and necklaces than a whole crew combined. What difference does a couple of rings make? Just fix them on one of your damn bracelets. You wont spend any time on sea now anyway and you never know when the right moment comes.”  
”Don’t see it will any time soon.”  
  
I’m scared. No point in denying it. Idelle has already told me. You don’t remember anything from the abduction or your fits. When Flint mentioned Vane, you thought I’d left you for him. At least that tells me you haven’t forgotten about us and what we are, or were, to each other. What scares me, is that you have no memory of what happened to you. Something’s not right and that makes the light weight of the gold rings around my wrist feel heavier than a fucking canon ball. My feet get slower by every step the closer they get to our home. Charles, who’s made me company back home, stops by the front porch.  
  
”Try to keep your head clear, Billy. You know Ben and you know when he’s not himself. _Don’t. Loose. Focus._ You look as pale as a ghost.”  
”Then slap some color on me.”  
  
Charles used to tease me for that. How I could take a punch in my guts, my face or even my crotch without getting teary-eyed, but a slap from a flat palm on my cheek could make me cry. Instead of slaps, he simply pinch me and then plant a soft kiss on my forehead.  
  
”Go and talk some sense to that Scottish looney. Sooner or later he’ll remember he loves you. Go!”  
  
He pushes me forward and leaves. The door isn’t locked, of course not, you’re home and you have company. Or guardians. Flint and Silver are sitting by the table, looking rather tired. Our scheaming quartermaster gives me one of his rare, sincere smiles that bares no traces of secrets or hidden agendas. As much as I can’t stand his manipulative side, I can’t deny the care for others he’s obviously capable of. He and Flint are very much alike in that regard. My captain doesn’t smile, but I recognize the compassion in his eyes.  
  
”He’s asked for you.”  
”Has he slept?”  
”Calmly for at least seven hours. Not even a nightmare.”  
  
I swallow.  
  
”What about food? Has he been eating?”  
”Not much, but he asked for tea earlier.”  
”Tea… Of course…”  
”Billy?”  
”What?”  
”You’re shaking.”  
  
Why is everyone fucking shorter than me? Why do I always think of that when someone hugs me? It’s just a quick hug, but somehow it gives me enough strenght to walk to the chamber and open the door.  
  
TBC


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’ve hurt him badly, I can feel it with every nerve in my body, but how?

He’s six foot five, how is it even possible for him to look… small? There’s nothing different with him really. He’s wearing one of his usual white, loose shirts and tight grey pants, the salt stained boots and several layers of leather wristbands. He seems to have taken a bath and shaved recently, but he looks so… worn down.  
  
”Can I come in?”  
”Of course.”  
  
He sits on the bed and nods at the kittens, who’re sleeping on the blanket.  
  
”Do you like them?”  
”Yeah. They’re quite cuddly. Have sharp teeth thou.”  
  
He’s got some bad bruising on his throat and I bite my lip.  
  
”I did that to you?”  
  
A nod.  
  
”I’m really sorry, Billy. I honestly don’t remember giving you that, but that doesn’t matter…”  
”Do you still want to hit me?”  
”No! For Gods sake, no!”  
”Then it matters. That you don’t remember.”  
”So… you’re not angry with me, husband?”  
”Never was… _God, Ben…_ ”  
  
He rises and turns his back on me.  
  
”Billy, don’t leave!”  
”I’m not leaving, I just… Can’t look at you right now.”  
”Are you crying?”  
”No…”  
”Yes you are! I can see that. Don’t turn your back on me, husband! _Please…_ Let me hold you.”  
  
He’s… scared? My memory is still very blurry, even blank in many ways. I only know what Idelle told me, but I can’t place the events in any kind of feeling or timeline. I trust that she didn’t lie to me, that I’ve been restrained for a reason and my husband’s behavior confirms that. In one way or another, I’ve hurt him, I just don’t know how. The distance pains me and I pull the strangely wrapped chains. A vain attempt to reach him.  
  
”Whatever I did to you, I’m so very sorry, Billy… Husband… I know we’re not married, maybe you don’t even  want to, but…  Just let me hold you!”  
”Say it again.”  
”What?”  
”Husband… Say it again.”  
”Please husband, let me hold you… _Please!_ ”  
  
I’ve hurt him badly, I can feel it with every nerve in my body, but how? He wont let me hold him, he sits by my side just out of reach, crying faced away and begging me to repeat the words. I don’t understand, I just do it. Over and over again, only because he asks me to, until my voice is hoarse, his tears falls slower and I actually can’t take the distance anymore and start crying to.  
  
”You scare me, Billy! If you’re to punish me for something by not touching me, at least tell me what I’ve done!”  
  
Strong, warm, shivering arms clutches around my waiste and I can finally hold him. He buries his face to my neck, so hard it almost hurt, as if I’ve been severely ill and just start to get better. What did Idelle tell me? _I was abducted._ I can hardly breathe, the embrace is so tight, so desperate. I’ve never seen him like this and he doesn’t seem to be able to explain what I’ve put him through right now. Whatever I did, he doesn’t blame me for it. At least not at the moment.  
  
I want to hold him too and I pull the chains once again, with the little strenght I have.  
  
”Get these off me. Now!”  
  
He doesn’t let go of me, as he digs in his pockets, hands shivering when he finds the key and unlocks the chains. When I finally have my arms around him we’re both crying like mad men. Me mostly because it breaks my heart to hear Billy cry. He pulls me to his lap, can’t seem to have me close enough.  
  
”Stay with me, Ben… Don’t care ’bout anything else, if you just stay with me…”  
  
My answer unleashes a fucking river of tears from him.  
  
”Why would I ever leave you, Billy?”  
  
What a strange thought... _And what's happened to us?_  
  
TBC


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I realise this story is a bit slow, and maybe not that exciting, but I've always been interested in the small things that force people together - or tear them apart. How everyday habits can either make more sense of the world or just increase the confusion when you're dealing with psychological trauma. How your mind can both block and expose painful memories and how painful it is to be the one trying to bring a loved one back from the darkness, when you're no longer sure about how much is left of the person that holds your heart. 
> 
> When your heart is trying to heal, some memories are just too painful to acknowledge.
> 
> (Comments are ALWAYS appreciated <3 Would love to hear what you think about the portraits of my pirate husbands.)

I’m so scared. My heart is running wild, every nerve is on edge. When did you become something more than a lover, a partner, a companion? You’re the one who’s hurt, but I’m the one who can’t stop crying. Can’t stop pressing you so close to me as if it was possible to make one single person of us. And all the time, while I cry and hold on to you, I can’t stop fearing this moment will end and your mind will work against us again.  
  
”Billy, sweetheart… You’re crushing me.”  
”Oh, God! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… Are you hurt?”  
”Hey, hey… I’m not made of glass, darling. Just, why are you sad?”  
”I’m not sad, Ben. Just… have to cry.”  
”You never cry if it’s not something bloody serious, husband. Oh, no… no, what did I say now?!”  
  
You’re calling me by the name I begged you to use and a part of me had nearly given up hope of ever hearing it again from your lips. I should be out of tears for a decade after these days and you’re kissing them away, placing lips over my cheeks, my eyes. When you reach my lips, I can’t hold back a desperate sound of relief as I finally get to taste you again. When we finally break contact, my lips are sore and I’m still crying. You stroke your thumb over my cheek.  
  
”I… I realise I’ve hurt you in some way, but I don’t know why. Honestly, husband, everything is so blurry, I’m not trying to make excuses.”  
”I know that, my love. Trust me, whatever happened, whatever you did to hurt me, wasn’t your fault. You weren’t yourself. I was so scared, Ben… So scared you’d hurt yourself.”  
  
I realise you have no idea how your face looks. You havn’t seen your face since, I don’t know… maybe if the rapists forced you to look in a mirror. You put a hand on your head and freeze.  
  
”My hair. It’s _cut_. Why is it cut?”  
”You remember what Idelle told you? About you being abducted.”  
”I remember she told me, but I don’t… wait… Are you saying someone captured me and fucking cut my _hair_? That’s just insane!”  
”The people who did that to you are insane, yes.”  
”But why would anyone… Were they making fucking wigs or something?”  
”No, they… They were just mad, Ben. They hurt you because they were looneys.”  
  
You’re trying to digest the information, but I can see you’re not able to make any sense of it. You seem to trust me thou, and the perplexed and discontent look on your face as you shove your fingers through the tangles Max did her best to even, shows me how little memories you actually have from the captivity.  
  
”Hand me the mirror…”  
  
It’s too early for that, but if I refuse you’ll know it’s bad anyway. It’s not about having scars and bruises. They’re parts of life, especially the kind of life we’ve lived, but with or without mirrors, you’re never unaware of them. There’s always someone who can point out exactly how shitty you look after a storm, a tavern fight or a battle. And if not, you’ll eventually feel the bruises at some point.  
  
You’re not a vain man. Fuck, you even laughed the first time I called you pretty, but since the maroon camp it’s been important to you not to look too raggy. And you hate being filthy just as much as I do, thank God for that. Filth, unattended wounds and old rags remind you about being locked in a cage, unable to help yourself, turning into something wild and unwanted. The man staring back at you now looks horrified and disgusted. I want to tell you how beautiful you are to me, no matter what, but now is not the time. You keep touching your tangled hair and I can’t keep silent.  
  
”It’ll grow back.”  
”I know. Do I have a clean shirt somewhere?”  
  
You’ve lost weight too. Not very much, but it awakes memories in you and some of them I still don’t know. That time when we grew close to each other, sometimes made me forget the past as if thirty something years suddenly weren’t any numbers to speak of. So many of my sometimes quite painful memories seemed to fade a little by every moment with you. Will it be the same for you? I have a hard time not being overly emotional so I go to the old wardrobe and grab one of the shirts Idelle changed for you. A blue-striped one. Goes well with your eyes… Dammit! I can’t be this over-sensitive around you!  
  
”Husband…”  
”What is it, love?”  
”Would you mind just… turn around while I…”  
”Of course.”  
  
Have seen every damage they did to you. Nothing’s hidden for me, at least not on your body, but of course you need the privacy. I leave the room when you call for me.  
  
”Billy…”  
”Yes?”  
”Could you put the kettle on?”  
  
It could be any morning, except it isn’t and I don’t know what I hate more: the infinite loop of fucking tears I can’t seem to hold back everytime you do something that reminds me of who you really are, or the fact that I still don’t know how much of you who're really here to stay.  
  
TBC


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For once, John's silver tongue betrays him. Luckily, James comes to his rescue. 
> 
> Never underestimate the power of small,   
> boring everyday signs of love   
> that take place in the dark.   
> When the light is out,   
> when all the grand gestures,   
> big words and breath taking feelings   
> have come to rest,   
> when you think you've won a war   
> and brought your love back home  
> you've only won a single battle.  
> When you're both naked in the dark,  
> when you've returned him to your arms,  
> your hearts are still at war,  
> fighting, searching for cover,  
> building barricades and loathing weapons.  
> And no one is there to see  
> the price to be payed, by him, by you  
> when all that is left is the truth:  
> The heart wants what it wants  
> and the only heart that wants nothing,  
> that suffers no more,  
> is the one that has stopped beating.   
> Then, and only then, your war is over  
> and you'll never leave his arms again.

”This isn’t good and you know that.”  
”I know what’s best for my husband, John.”  
”He’s not himself, Billy. Christ, you out of all people should see that! The turns are just too swift.”  
”Keep your voice down, dammit! He’s resting.”  
  
Billy throws a cautious glance at the chamber door, but one can still hear a soft, snoring sound from there. John sips on the wine. The reports from Vane have been brief, but accurate. The religious madness has somehow vanished since Ben got loose from the chains and from what Billy is telling, he is recovering quite well. Oh, except for not remembering anything, of course. To block out memories like that isn’t unknown or strange to either John or Billy, but they also know how dangerous it can be to deny them for too long. Billy turns to John again.  
  
”You know, somehow I thought that if someone could help him more than anyone, it would be me. It maybe sounds stupid and fucking ridiculous, but…”  
”You thought you shared enough with him to be special?”  
”Something like that. Fuck… I’ve survived press ganging, abuse, starvation, fucking rapes, mutenies, a war, enough battles for a lifetime, not to mention a ridiculous amount of deadly plans from you and Flint, but for some reason I can’t fucking convince Ben he’s…”  
”Everything to you?” John’s smile is bitter. ”Vane kind of made a point of that when he came back. Said we couldn’t understand, Flint and I. Have to admit it pissed me off.”  
”Vane’s not really the model of subtility.”  
”But he was right. To be fair, Flint was even more blind than me, but you and Ben are so damn… _natural_ together you just look like a picture of the perfect marriage: quiet, boring and everlasting. I never thought you were actually _in love_ …”  
”What? Then why the hell did you think we stuck together? Made a fucking home together?”  
”Honestly, I thought you just wanted to help Ben get used to Nassau and then… stuck with him for convenience.”  
  
John never intended to say that and by the judge of Billy’s upset look, he really should’ve kept his mouth shut. The turbulence he’s experiencing with Flint is sometimes exhausting and irritating, but it’s also exciting. That small messure of uncertainty they both need not to get bored. The extra thrill that make it feel so much more than a marriage. Looks that haunt and taunt each other, keeping them on edge. Compared to that, Billy’s and Ben’s relationship seems very ordinary and uninteresting. Two people that eat, sleep, work and fuck good enough together.   
  
”Billy, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”  
”It’s alright, John. Shouldn’t be surprised by you imagining that. I guess Flint is even more oblivious. I mean, it’s not like the two of you didn’t have other things to worry about during the war than the fact that your newest crew member that spent months in that cage, never left my side. Or that I stopped sleeping onboard entirely, sharing a fucking straw mattress in the safe house with… oh, that’s right: our newest crew member.”  
”Billy, I…”  
”Of course it must’ve been too fucking subtile and ordinary for two such _special, passionate men_ as my secretive captain and scheaming quartermaster to realise I actually cared for Ben. No fucking war declarations in the name of an old love, no cat-and-mouse game to get advantage over each other… Yeah, I figure a relationship between two dull, boring and discrete men like Billy Bones and Ben Gunn must be about mere convenience, ’cause what more could _they_ fucking need or wish for?!”  
”I realise how…”  
” _Please_ , John. Just don’t speak right now, I beg you.”  
  
He gets it. Another word and Ben will most certainly wake up. And if John ever wished someone a memery loss, it would be Billy right now. The only reason he’s not punching John in the face right now, is because of the sleeping man behind the door. They just sit there in the awkward silence for too long minutes, until they’re rescued by a familiar grunt by the door.  
  
”Damn little beasts… Can’t tell the difference between rats and fucking boots… Hello? Billy? John?”  
”We’re in here.”  
  
Hard to say who’s most relieved to see the ginger captain: his husband or his first mate. Flint gives John a kiss on cheek and puts a basket on the table.   
  
”I brought supper.”  
  
A small sound from the chamber caughts Billy’s attention and he rises.  
  
”Have to check on him.”  
  
Voice is thick and John gives James a look saying he should wait to speak before Billy has closed the door. When he does, James frowns.  
  
”What was that about?”  
  
John just sighs and kisses him hard on the mouth.  
  
”Believe it or not, I said something increadibly stupid and you can’t imagine how happy I am to see you.”  
”Your silver tongue betrayed you?”  
”So badly I might never trust it again. If Billy punches me later, don’t let him kill me, but don’t strike back and rest assure I had it coming.”  
  
James chuckles and entangles his hand in his husbands thick, curly hair.  
  
”Tell me what you’ve done. Whatever it is, you know I’ll always save your pretty, witty ass, husband.”  
”But not before you’ve told me how fucking stupid I’ve been?”  
”Of course not. Now pour me some wine, darling.”  
  
  
TBC


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”So… we’re lovers?”  
> ”Yeah... But it’s been a while.”  
> ”Because I was gone?”  
> ”Yes.”  
> ”Did you miss me?”  
> ”More than you’d ever know…”

I can feel your gaze on me, like a soft, but hesitating touch. Did I forget to close the door, or did I simply just not care? It took a long time before I realised my body was attractive. Looks of a predator I could easily recognize and the only one who really understood my discomfort the first time at the Walrus, was Flint. I was so terribly scrawny and suffered from not yet healed wounds. All those bodies, sometimes partly and other times fully naked, made me very uncomfortable. Was seventeen when I joined them and not until three, maybe four years later, did the last trace of distress fade away.  
  
I was used to judge my body through other men’s eyes. With discontent, disgust or a predatory gaze. Something to be ashamed of, something for others to use as they pleased. Something separated from my mind, not belonging to me. Two hands and feet for work other people wanted to be done, two holes for men to empty themselves whenever they wished. I was a creature, only disguised in the shape of a human and my wishes, if anyone thought me capable of even having any, were just as unimportant to them as my tears. I had to join the scum of the Earth, the threat to all righteousness in order to learn how my body looked through the eyes of a caring brother, a friend, an admirer, a lover or a husband. Flint taught me the eyes of a caretaker, Gates the eyes of a concearned father figure and Joji the eyes of a vengeful brother killing British soldiers with a rarely seen fury, in an unspoken revenge for what I suffered.  
  
After some time, I could see lust that didn’t take without asking. Looks that didn’t turn to touches without permission, hands that stayed still when my body began to protest. And in Vane’s dark, glowing eyes I found the lover, the pure, carnal form of intimacy that never opened, or wished to open, my heart. By then I already knew my body was attractive and, more important, that I was in charge of who could touch it and how. But it wasn’t until Vane let his gaze linger on me in the aftermaths of sex, when he kept petting my chest, kissing my panting mouth and stroking my hair, when I was already in his bed and he’d have me. In the moment when all other men I’d been with, were already half dressed again or talking bullshit. That was when Vane softly pulled me close and told me I was beautiful.  
  
It all ended so naturally, without any bad feelings. Maybe because our moments in bed were always followed by talk. Conversations we couldn’t have with anyone else, a sense of relaxation from being a bosun and a captain. It was so good, having someone who actually listened to you, that didn’t threw half thruths or even lies in your face. Someone that didn’t want to possess you, or be possessed. That didn’t scheme, plottered or felt entitled to something unspoken. That’s why I loved and still loves Vane as a friend. I remember how he used to let me take control, never pushed further than he knew I could handle, always asking, never rushing and his eyes constantly searching for any sign of discomfort. In that piercing, but tender darnkess in his eyes, I reclaimed my body and soul and whatever shame that lingered in me, the heat in his embrace burned to ashes.  
  
Your gaze has always been shy. As long as I’ve known you, at least. Shy and longing. Possessive, but never predatory. First, it was difficult to tell the difference between your possessiveness and your shyness, or your fear and discomfort. Were you tense or just tired? Scared? Was it simple jealousy in your eyes when someone flirted with me at the tavern or fear? I couldn’t ask you, I knew that, but it was difficult to handle it without exposing you to more discomfort by looking for answers you may or may not had yet.  
  
I’m not sure what kind of gaze you’re resting on my skin now. I just know it’s there, travelling over my naked body from the half closed door as I prepare for my still lonely bed. And I know it awakes feelings I can’t express to you. Not in words, not in touches. It’s not just a carnal lust, it’s a desire to be beautiful, desireble to you again. I want so desperately for you to recognize love, care and desire in my eyes. I want to look in your eyes and see myself become yours, over and over again. I want you to tower over me, sneaking up behind me, nuzzle close to me, standing with your head resting against my running heart and whispering softly while the sense of your lips and beard make my skin form goose bumps, the words you used to say: _You’re so beautiful, husband. Let’s go to bed and I’ll show you just how beautiful you are to me…_  
  
”Husband…”  
”Yes, darling?”  
  
Don’t want to turn around. You haven’t seen me naked since you attacked me. Don’t even want to think about how long it is since you saw me aroused or what memories or feelings it could provoke. Despite John’s words about the oddness in your behavior, you’ve had a good day today. You’ve been calm, smiled every now and then and spent quite some time with the cats, who adore you – and why shouldn’t they?  
  
I’m not an animal. Have never in my whole life been unable to stop myself, sober or drunk, no matter how hard and leaking I’ve been. I’ve stopped at any sign of discomfort, the very second I’ve heard a ”no” or felt a rejecting gesture. I’ve pulled out of mouth and ass, so hard it hurts with my cock leaking from need, at the slightest shiver of unease from a man. To have you so close, your clothed body a breathtake away from my naked back, feeling what only a look from you are doing with me, when I don’t know your next move is… fucking terrifying.  
  
”Why are you undressed?”  
”I’m going to bed, sweetheart.”  
”You sleep naked?”  
”Yes.”  
”Hm… Me too?”  
  
Oh, please, please let me say the right thing now! I can’t show lust, can’t let my feelings take over. I have to be fucking calm and stop thinking about your warm breath against my skin and all the long weeks of loneliness.  
  
”Yes, you used to do that.”  
”We’re husbands, right?”  
  
I want to lie, to tell you that we’re married, but I can’t. It’s not right.  
  
”Not official, but we call each other that.”  
”But we’re not married?”  
”Not yet…”  
”So… we’re lovers?”  
”Yeah... But it’s been a while.”  
”Because I was gone?”  
”Yes.”  
”Did you miss me?”  
”More than you’d ever know…”  
  
Your arms goes around my waiste and I almost stop breathing. It’s too soon, the uncertain tone in your voice, the questions tell me you’re not back, you’re still searching for a steady ground and the smallest step in the wrong direction could send us both back into the darkness. So I start thinking about Vane. Trying to remember how secure he made me feel, even when memories of old wounds forced themselves into my brain and had me locked up and tense in his embrace. Those nights when my body simply refused to cooperate and Vane still wouldn’t push me or leave. How he seemed to forget all about his own needs and every touch and move he made, bore nothing but a wish to give me comfort.  
  
”Do you want me to undress?”  
”If you want to.”  
”But what do _you_ want?”  
”I want you to do as you please.”  
”Why are you sounding like you’re afraid, Billy? If you don’t want us to see each other naked, just say so.”  
”Oh no, it’s not that! God, Ben, there’s nothing I’d like more than for us to share a bed again, but…”  
”But what? I don’t understand.”  
  
As I thought. You don’t remember and that, my darling man, scares the shit out of me. What if you wake up beside me and have a fit? What if you don’t see a husband, a lover or even a friendly face? But still, you’re standing so close to me with all your warmth and softness, with your heartbeats, uncertainty and that hard cock pressed against my ass… Fuck! I have to yield, there’s nothing to it. Have to make myself small and insecure in your eyes, because it’s too early for the touches I’ve longed for. So I form my most innocent face, with lips parted, eyes big and insecure before I meet your gaze.  
  
”I don’t want to have sex tonight, husband.”  
”Why not? It certainly seems like you want to…”  
  
Of course it does. I hate my cock right now. Fucking traitor.  
  
”Yeah, it’s just that… it hurts.”  
”You didn’t caught the French, did you?!”  
”Christ no! I’m just tense and you know it only gets worse if we’re fucking.”  
  
At least _that’s_ true and luckily for me, you remember that. And you also remember I’m faithful to you, thank God. You stroke my cheek.  
  
”Poor husband. But we’re still sharing bed, right?”  
”Of course, my love.”  
  
I can’t come up with a good excuse for separate beds without making you really suspicious or telling the truth. Both options equally horrifying right now. I give you a chaste kiss on your forehead.  
  
”Let’s go to bed then.”  
  
TBC  



	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”You’re not a woman.”  
> ”No, I’m not.”  
> ”Then why are we doing this?”

He’s tense. It kind of surprises me, especially since his cock is so hard. He doesn’t usually gets hard when he’s that tense, but on the other hand I still have some gaps in my memory, for some reason. Maybe he’s just having one of those irritating, inconvenient boners you get sometimes when you’re not horny. Pity, because I’d really love to have him tonight. I mean: I’d love for him to have me, of course. I’m not sure if I remember things correctly, but he’s both taller and stronger than me so I guess I’m not the one doing the fucking. Or is it? Fuck, my memory is blurry…  
  
”What are you thinking about, darling?”  
”Nothing... It’s just, I’m trying to remember…”  
”Maybe I could help you? If you tell me what’s on your mind.”  
”It’s so stupid… I should remember…”  
”It’s alright if you don’t. I’ll help you.”  
”We’ve shared a bed for a long time, right? I mean, as husbands, not just sleeping.”  
”About a year.”  
”And we stopped that when I was abducted?”  
”Yes. You were ill, so it wasn’t a good time to share bed.”  
”But we used to?”  
”Yes.”  
”How?”  
”What do you mean?”  
”It’s a stupid question..”  
”No, no! There are no stupid questions, Ben. The only way for you to remember, is to ask about things you’re uncertain of.”  
  
I feel kind of safe right now. I mean, there’s always a strange, unpleasant feeling present, sometimes in my head, other times in my chest or my belly. But it’s not as strong right now and I guess that means I feel better. Maybe I can ask him, without being scared.  
  
”I don’t remember if… if we’re _switching_ … Can you do that?”  
”Oh… Yeah, of course you can, if you enjoy it.”  
”You enjoy it?”  
”Very much.”  
”What about me? What do I like?”  
  
He seems worried now. Unsure, for some reason. We’re facing each other and I rest my head on his arm, having him close enough to feel how hard he is, but I’m not pushing against him. He bites his lip.  
  
”I’d rather not telling you what you like, husband. It’s your body and if we’re to get your memory back, I think it’s best if I don’t fill it with memories that maybe aint entirely your own.”  
”Perhaps not. How do we use to sleep?”  
”Close your eyes and try to remember.”  
  
It’s hard. Really hard. I mostly recall his scent, actually. From his hair and the side of his neck… That’s right. I use to fall asleep on his chest… _between his legs._  
  
”I’m sleeping on top of you…”  
”Usually, yes.”  
”Between your legs, right?”  
”Yes… Not always, but mostly.”  
”And I wake up… with your face… on my shoulder? No… not shoulder… Fuck, I don’t remember!”  
”Yes, you are. It’s almost right. Try again. Close your eyes and try to relax, Ben. You’re mostly falling asleep on top of me, between my legs, and when you wake up, I usually have my face…”  
  
_Heat. Softness_. _Hair…?_  
  
”In my hair. My neck…”  
”That’s right.”  
  
It’s not very comfortable being so hard, and I really want to fuck him, or him to fuck me. He’s so beautiful, his skin so smooth and warm.  
  
”Billy?”  
”Yes, my love?”  
”Can we sleep like that now?”  
”Um… It could be uncomfortable, darling. I’m afraid it might be painful.”  
”But you only said it got worse if we’re fucking. If we’re not fucking…?”  
”Alright then.”  
  
I rise and he spread his legs to a valley for me to position myself between. I can’t help but moan a little when I feel his cock pressed to mine. Yes, it’s a bit uncomfortable, but it helps me remember. This is how I lay most nights, nestled to his body with his strong arms around my back. With his hands stroking my hair and back, his mouth kissing my neck and shoulder.  
  
”Kiss me, Billy. Please?”  
  
God, yes! His tongue, his lips, this is something I remember! It’s so slow and careful. He tastes a little bit of rum and something else that I clearly recognize as… just Billy. What made me give up all this…? If I could only recall why I would deprive myself from his touch… It feels so good, it’s as if he knows every inch of my body. Of course, we’re both men and our bodies are in some ways very much the same. It would be more difficult, I guess, if he was a… _woman._  
  
”Ben? Darling? What’s the matter?”  
”You’re not a woman.”  
”No, I’m not.”  
”Then why are we doing this?”  
  
TBC


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A spouse for a spouse. A life for a life. May God have mercy on you, for I have not.

”Are you sure about this, Billy?”  
”Yes.”  
”You don’t think you should…”  
”Charles… _No._ ”  
  
The tone is definate and he gives Idelle, who’s waiting on the beach, a kiss on the cheek.  
  
”Thank you. For everything.”  
  
She already knows and will do as asked. Gold is silence, but so is the right word in right time. Billy trust her, even if he hadn’t payed her. Besides, she’s earned those coins and more, for all that she’s done. The drunk man sleeping in the house Billy used to call home, will get the letter and by then, the man he once knew and loved, will be gone. It’s better this way.  
  
The rowboat is slowly leaving shore for the Ranger. The three men are quiet. The captain, his new bosun and the man rowing. Vane, who waited a long time for this moment, now wish it didn’t happen. Billy’s grieving, leaving his heart in the small house in Nassau and comes to the Ranger with little more than the clothes on his body, some weapons and a ring on one of his bracelets, hidden beneath a wristband. In a sealed letter, it’s twin lays, safely under Idelle’s corset. Another letter will be delivered to the Spanish Man O’War.  
  
In the square of Nassau, two corpses are hanging, already rottening in their cages. A man and a women, barely to be recognized. Someone has clearly kept their bodies in salt since death, but their death have been one of lamentations. It's the hour before dawn and it wont take long before they're discovered. Their names are written on a piece of wood, hanging in simple chains from the iron cages, together with the following words:  
  
_A spouse for a spouse. A life for a life. May God have mercy on you, for I have not._  
  
_Billy Bones_  
  
TBC


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The right moment never came…

  
My one and only, my beloved Ben,  
  
please know I’ll always love you, no matter what’s happened in the past or what will happen in the future. To have you, even for a short time, was more than I could ever wish for. Never dreamed of love, or a home, as you know. I always thought I’d end up drinking myself to an early grave or die at sea. Have to admit thou, it’s very easy to get used to love, once you’ve found it…  
  
I’ll be sailing under Charles, but I’ll be nothing more to him than his bosun. I wont take another lover and the very moment I recieve the slightest sign that you want me to be truly yours again, I’ll return to your arms with greatest speed. In my heart, Ben Gunn, you’ll always be my husband. The ring is the one I intended to give you the night you were taken. It’s an engagement ring. I bear it’s twin around my wrist, as I’ve done since that day. The right moment never came…  
  
I’ve never felt any shame for our love, never questioned our feelings and I’d walk proudly with you, kiss you for all the world to see and turn my back on any law of gods and men if I could hold you in my arms once again. And even if that day never comes, even if we’ll never take any vows or share a home and bed again, rest assure you’re the only man I’ll ever love. I belong to you, with body, heart and soul. Please, find the man inside you I failed to save. There isn’t a waking moment when I don’t miss him.  
  
Yours in everything,

 _Billy_  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In order to make this story a bit easier to handle and read, I've decided to split it up in two parts. "Naked in the dark (return him to my arms)" will be the first part of it and the series I have named "All That May Leave Us Shattered". I will soon post the first chapters in the second part, but just to be clear: it's a continue on the same story and I'm not leaving Billy, Ben or anyone else hanging. The next part will be a follow-up named "Whatever that's left (another holy war)".


End file.
